The Eye of the Storm
by Speakfire
Summary: Can Clark Kent's life get any more complicated? Lex Luthor has a plan that poses a threat to everyone Superman loves.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman or the world of Superman. A bunch of people who have a lot more brains and money than I possess own it all. I'm not making any profit from this story, and it's purely for entertainment.

A/N I hope you enjoy my first foray into the world of Superman. Reviews and honest constructive (not destructive!) criticism welcomed with open arms.

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-PROLOGUE-

"I got a splinter in my pinkie," Kitty Kowalski complained, trying not to whine but failing miserably. "I..." Anything else she was going to say came to an abrupt halt as her companion (boyfriend?) Lex Luthor gave her a cold stare. "Never mind," she mumbled, cuddling the Pomeranian close. The little dog whimpered, but didn't try to escape, instinctively knowing that he was far safer in Kitty's arms than he was roaming around this tiny island with Lex in his current temper.

Lex grimly picked up the next to last coconut, hefting it in his hand for a moment and studying it, as though imagining it were something else. Then he hurled it out into the ocean, where it landed at least 3 meters beyond where the previously thrown coconuts floated. Sand sprayed as he stormed back up the beach toward the remaining one.

Kitty eyed him for a moment, recalling his expression when she had asked him what they'd eat after the coconuts were gone, and got to her feet, with Pommy still tucked under her right arm. "I'm going to see if I can find a Band-Aid in the first aid kit," she announced. Who cares that she wasn't bleeding. Lex muttered something she was glad she didn't hear in response. She made her way over to the helicopter, the spikes of her heels leaving small indentations the sand.. Reaching out to pull the door open with a yank, she staggered suddenly as the sand shifted under her shoes. Pommy let out a strangled yelp as he was sandwiched between Kitty's body and the seat, and gasping with sudden fear for him, she twisted her body to the left to try to shift the brunt of her weight. Gracelessly, her feet flailing, she fell forward onto her left shoulder, and found herself staring at the first aid kit under the seat... and at the largest of the crystals that Lex had taken from that glinting console in Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Somehow, it must have fallen under there when she upended the velvet-lined satchel of crystals from the side of the 'copter.

Going still at the initial sight, Kitty shot a quick glance toward Lex, who, fortunately hadn't witnessed her mishap, and reached out with a trembling hand to touch the crystal. It was surprisingly cold, given the warmth of the helicopter's interior and the sun shining down on the island. Before she could change her mind, she grabbed it and slipped it into her coat pocket. Then, after taking a deep breath, she unsnapped the bungie cord holding the first aid kit in place and pulled it out. She regained her feet and strode back to the shade of her parasol, head held high as though she had nothing to hide.

She shrugged out of her coat again, carefully arranging it on the sand as a makeshift blanket, then took a seat and unlatched the first aid kit to peek inside. Rooting through it for a moment, she pulled out a small Band-Aid, and tossed the box down onto her coat as she worked to open it up and apply it to her pinkie.

"Hayughhh!" Lex shouted in fury as he threw the last coconut into the water. This time he didn't even watch where it landed before he stalked through the surf back toward the beach, and by default, toward Kitty. She stiffened, her gaze sliding away from the enraged man, and cuddled Pommy close.

He stopped right in front of her and spoke, his voice quiet and deadly. "Where did you get that? And why didn't you tell me you found it?"

Caught, Kitty started stammering, "I... I found it up under the passenger seat in the helicopter, I'm sorry Lex, I was going to tell you," as tears began to stream down her face. The Pomeranian yelped as her fingers tightened on him, and she buried a sob into his thick orange coat.

"You mean to tell me, this," he reached down to yank the bright orange flare gun out of the first aid kit, "has been under the seat in the helicopter this whole time?" he hissed, waving it in front of her nose.

Nodding, Kitty dared to look at his face, and then started, giving the flare gun a blank stare. It took a moment for her to realize he was referring to the flare gun and not the crystal she'd hidden away. "Uh... Yeah." A beat passed, and she added breathlessly, "I only just now found it... I was just about to tell you..." Somehow, she managed to avoid looking down at her coat and the secret it held.

He popped open the barrel, checking for charges, then pointed it directly at her, his expression grim. Kitty's heart stopped, and she ducked her head down over the little dog. Sure, it was a flare gun, but at this close range it was unlikely she'd come away without serious injury if he decided to fire it. "Don't worry mommy's going to take good care of her little boy," she reassured the Pomeranian, rocking back and forth.

A long moment passed, so Kitty dared to peek up at Lex again and found that expression on his face, the one that had drawn her to him in the first place. It spoke of power, confidence and of someone who had a Plan, and was unafraid to put it into action, no matter what the price.

"Mommy's little boy," Lex said, his eyes bright, lowering the flare gun in a slow deliberate manner. And then he plopped down on the sand beside Kitty to stare out over the water. Nervously, Kitty fiddled with the coat blanket, shifting the edges closer to herself and away from Lex.

"Yes, mommy's going to take good care of her little boy." Lex smiled grimly, as he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the remnant of the kryptonite shiv that he'd stabbed Superman with, holding it up to stare at it. Then he flashed Kitty his most engaging smile and looked westward toward sunset, waiting for the darkness he knew would come.


	2. Touch and Go

A/N The rubber cement incident is from something that happened to me on like my second day on the job at a library when I was in college. Yes it really does look how I've described it in the story ;) Reviews and constructive (not destructive!) criticism welcome. If you really don't like something, I'd at least like to know why, though I realize it's impossible to please everyone.

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Chapter 1: Touch and Go

It was after ten before Clark Kent got to work that morning, late again. Not that anyone noticed of course.

It was business at usual at the Daily Planet from the look and sound of things. To anyone who'd never been there, it probably looked like an utter madhouse. The room was a veritable maze of small desks and cubicles, most stacked high with papers. There was a constant buzz of noise, voices chattering, phones ringing, the clickity-clack of fingers on keyboards and of course, the multiple televisions tuned to different channels so that there was little chance of missing any breaking news. And through it all wove the reporters, editors, copyboys, graphics artists, assistants and everyone else who helped put out each edition of the top newspaper in Metropolis.

It'd been six days since Metropolis had felt the effects of Lex Luthor's island formation, and everyone in the city was working hard to clean up the mess. Miraculously, very few buildings had permanent structural damage from the earthquake. Most of the broken windows in the Daily Planet were still in the process of being replaced, though they were almost finished with the repairs on this floor at least.

Clark made his way through the obstacle course of desks and people, managing to bowl over one person and bump into two desks in the process. A file case fell over as he slung his briefcase onto his own desk, and he awkwardly fumbled to catch it before it hit the floor. He allowed himself to succeed today, and straightening back up, replaced the case into his organized work area before sitting down.

Out of habit, he craned his neck to look in the direction of where Lois's cubicle was. A slight smile curved his lips as he saw her dark head bent over her desk, a phone held in the crook of her neck as she furiously wrote on a pad of paper in front of her.

A surge of some inexplicably complicated emotion surged in his chest as he watched her. She'd been so busy the last few days, especially after finishing her latest big article. It had been aptly entitled, "Why the World Needs Superman." Perry White insisted it would be another Pulitzer prize winner.

For himself, he'd not had much opportunity to talk to her since that night after he'd left the hospital, either as Clark or Superman. Heaving a controlled sigh, he leaned back in his chair, thinking.

"Mr. Kent! Hey Clark!" called his friend, Jimmy Olsen, waving a hand to gesture Clark over toward where he stood staring up at one of the television monitors.

He regained his feet and headed that way, offering a cheerful, "Hello Jimmy," to the other man. The monitor was showing some footage of a train derailment in Pennsylvania that Superman had helped with earlier that morning.

Jerking a thumb toward the monitor, Jimmy said with a grin, "You'd never know he nearly died less than a week ago, would you? He's amazing. You should see the pictures I took of him yesterday when he was helping replace the globe on the top of the building..." his voice trailed off and he grimaced, "I'd show you the first-day story about Superman and the train derailment, but your new helper had a little accident."

Clark nodded absently as his gaze went from the footage of Superman to another monitor tuned to The Weather Channel, which was covering the formation of a new hurricane in the Atlantic. He made a mental note to head down that way later to 'encourage' the storm to dissipate before it made landfall in the Caribbean and caused any severe damage. Then he'd... the last part of what Jimmy said sank in and he blinked, looking at the photographer, his eyebrows arcing upwards. "My... new helper?" he echoed with genuine confusion.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Jimmy asked, his brown eyes wide with surprise. "I'd have thought you'd be the first to know. Anyway, we've got a ... well she's kind of an intern only she's in high school. Part of her journalism class, extra credit, or something like that. It's volunteer, you know. No pay, credit or glory. Anyway she's going to be hanging around here for at least the rest of the year, after school and that kind of thing. Mr. White assigned her to work with you. So congratulations, you have your very own assistant!" he announced.

The best response that Clark could come up with at that revelation was a weak, "Gee, swell."

Olsen turned and looked beyond his taller friend to editor-in-chief Perry White's office, then lowered his voice, saying sympathetically, "She's not having a good first day."

Gil, a heavy-set man who was another one of the reporters for the Daily Planet, aws glowering when he approached them and said, "Jimmy, I need to talk with you about those pictures you took for my article..."

Jimmy gulped, "Uh... Ok. See you around, Clark," and hurried after Gil.

"Uh-huh," Clark responded, his attention now on the slim girl in Perry's office. Without even listening in or looking in, it was obvious the teenager was getting raked over the coals by the editor-in-chief. Perry White was by nature both gruff and strict, but rarely was he outright angry. This happened to be one of those times. He made his way back to his desk and 'tuned' his hearing to listen in on what seemed to be the tail end of the conversation.

"...and I know this is your first day, but if you mess up another layout to that extent, it will be your last day as well, do I make myself clear, Mason?" Perry demanded, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the girl. "Great Caesar's ghost, I'd send you back today but they'd probably send me someone even more fumble-fingered."

She ducked her head down for a moment and then squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes with her own. "Yes sir. It won't happen again, I promise. I can assure you that..."

White cut her off, saying flatly, "I don't want excuses, I want results." He looked through the glass windows to his office and saw the broad shoulders of Clark sitting at his desk. "Kent is finally here. Make sure that mess is cleaned up, then report to him." He turned his back in a wordless dismissal and made his way back to his chair.

A moment later, the glass door opened and the girl walked out of Perry's office heading in the direction of the copy desk, her chin up and brown eyes focused straight ahead. She looked to be about 15 years old, attractive but not beautiful, in that 'all American girl' kind of way. Her long sandy blonde hair hung down past her shoulders, brushed straight back and to the side. She was slender and probably an inch or so taller than Lois, which would put her around 5'8".

Clark watched her go past, a slight frown darkening his typically cheerful expression. While he agreed that a few months learning the inside of working at a major newspaper would be an invaluable source of experience for someone her age, the prospect of having someone who could be around watching his every move at the Planet had the potential to be disastrous. Surely someone else at the office would be interested in having an eager kid to run errands for them. He'd just ask around.

"Hey Pauly," Clark started, leaning around the edge of his desk to address the reporter who sat opposite him. Pauly Varaggio's desk was stacked so high with files and papers that there was literally a paper wall barrier between their two desks, never mind that they were right next to each other. "Uh, I was wondering, if you'd..."

Pauly interrupted him without even looking up from his work, "Not a chance."

Taken aback, Clark blinked at his co-worker. "I thought that you could use some help with organizing..." he gestured at the stacks of files separating them.

Looking outraged at the notion, Pauly scowled, "Are you kidding? It'd completely mess up my filing system! And don't bother asking anyone else to take her on either, not after what happened earlier." The short Italiano gave him a humorless smile, "You're stuck with her, Kent. Enjoy your shadow."

"Swell," Clark sighed with resignation and leaned back in his chair. The girl had finished cleaning up the layout area and was carrying a rag and a bottle of cleaner back toward the cleaning closet. But when she opened the door and then vanished into the small room, shutting the door behind her, he stiffened. His suitcases were still in there.

He hesitated and then got to his feet, walking to the closet. Staring at it for a moment, he then focused his gaze to stare through it, curious to see what the girl was doing.

She was sitting on a box in front of the stand-up cutout of Perry White, hunched over and crying quietly.

Great.

Lifting his hand, Clark rapped his knuckles on the door. On the other side, the teenager started, and wiped her cheeks and eyes with a quick swipe of her palms. She stood up, put her hand on the door knob and took a deep breath as though bracing for whatever was on the other side, and pulled the door open.

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The day that was supposed to have been one of the best days of Patricia Mason's short life was instead turning out to be one of the worst. Feeling on the verge, out of desperation she'd shut herself in the cleaning closet before she broke down completely and started blubbering like a baby in front of everyone in the entire newsroom. The gentle knocking at the door brought her head up, and she fought to recovere her composure. At least they had been kind enough to knock and give her time to do so. Whoever it was must have heard her through the door.

"Yes?" Trish forced her voice to remain calm and steady as she opened the door to answer the knocking. She found herself staring at an ugly brown tie with thick white stripes that probably dated back to the time her father was a child. It was a perfect match to the brown suit he wore. Her gaze flicked up and then up some more to meet concerned blue eyes that were obscured by an equally ugly pair of black-rimmed glasses.

"Are you ok?" the man asked after a slight and awkward pause, pushing his glasses up further on his nose in a nervous gesture. His thick dark brown hair was in bad need of a haircut, covering his forehead and long enough to hang down over his ears, though it was neatly combed and parted. "I saw you come in here, and, well I heard about what happened earlier. Actually I just heard that something happened, I didn't get the details," he corrected himself.

Trish emitted a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, turning to pick up the cleaning bottle she'd brought in and replace it on the shelf. "I tripped and broke a bottle of rubber cement on the clean proof of the train derailment that Superman was at this morning. I was just trying to get a closer look at it..." She paused and turned to look at the tall man who now took up most of the doorway to the storeroom, saying bluntly, "It made the photographs look like he'd sneezed on the accident site. Big time."

The man's lips twitched. A moment passed, and he said, "I see. Well. The edition will still get out on time, they don't use the original pictures and such, there's soft copies on computers, originals in files. That kind of thing."

Sighing, Trish nodded, "Yeah but... I mean not only did I royally screw up within two hours of my getting here on my first day, I messed up a story about Superman. Can you believe it? He's like..." Here she waved a hand, trying to come up with the right words, "royalty around here. Or something. I mean, the Daily Planet always gets the biggest scoops on him and what he's doing. It was just bad." She grimaced at the memory.

Reassuringly, the man said, "I'm quite sure Superman could care less, especially since it was just an accident." He ducked his head before introducing himself, offering her his hand in greeting, "I'm Clark Kent. And you're... Mason?"

Trish's eyes widened with surprise. "Really? I thought you'd be a lot older," she said without thinking as she reached out to shake his hand, then flushed as a quick and toothy grin appeared on his face. "Patricia Mason, but please, call me Trish. Only my mom and dad call me Patricia."

"Gee, thanks. I think, anyway," Clark responded, still smiling. "Trish it is."

Apologetically, she said, "Sorry, it's just, well, well your articles are always so well thought out and insightful. Like someone who's seen a lot of the world, if that makes sense? Seems like someone who wrote like that would have to be old." Trish glanced up at him, then exhaled in a slow breath to stop her runaway mouth. "I'll stop eating my foot any day now." She studied him for a moment. For all his outdated garb, he was not all that old. Maybe in his late 20s or something. Younger than her parents at least, and kind of cute in that geeky-nerdy sort of way.

Clark lowered his head to hide a smile, and as he took a step back, his elbow knocked into the water cooler to the left of the storeroom door. It teetered precariously, in grave danger of falling over, but he managed to right it at the last moment and returned it to it's original position with care. "That was a close one," he murmured, pushing his glasses up again. "My desk is over this way."

Relieved to see she wasn't the only klutz in the office, Trish followed, flicking off the light switch for the cleaning closet and pulled the door too. "Mr. Olsen showed me where it was earlier, before the... Supersneeze incident." Were his shoulders shaking? It must have been her imagination. When they reached his desk, she glanced at his face but his expression was serious, though his eyes seemed a brighter shade of blue.

Clark put one hand on his hip and gestured at his neatly organized desk, explaining, "I've only been back in town for a couple of weeks from, ah, travelling abroad. So I've done a pretty good job of keeping up with stuff so far. Here, let me clear this off," he began shifting some of the things on the end cabinet to his desk, then paused for a moment. He cocked his head, darting a quick glance toward the windows to the right of his desk. "Actually, let me go see if I can find you a decent chair in the storerooms. You just make yourself at home... oh and you can proof these if you want." He dropped a surprisingly heavy file case into her hands.

"Oh," Trish said, startled, blinking down at the flat grey box with the Daily Planet logo etched onto it. "Uh, thanks. I'll get to work on it right away." She looked from the file case up to see he was already gone, quickly striding toward the elevators with far more grace than she would have expected given his mannerisms up until then.

Well at least Clark Kent seems alright to work for, Trish thought to herself as she gingerly settled into his chair. It was positioned to comfortably accomodate someone far taller than herself, but she left it as it was, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground, figuring she'd messed with enough stuff for one day. Then she opened the case and got to work.


	3. Odds and Ends

A/N I am sorry if this chapter is a little slow at times, but sometimes the devil is in the details. I find setting up my characters and their situations to be very important to future development. Reviews and honest constructive (not destructive!) criticism welcomed with open arms.

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Chapter 2: Odds and Ends

Clark returned perhaps twenty minutes later, bearing a small office chair, which he carried down the carpeted aisle. People who saw him coming took one look and moved out of the way. Those who were too occupied with conversations and other tasks suffered painful consequences for their inattention. The tall man found himself apologizing almost constantly but finally made it back to his desk. Trish was leaning back in his chair, her gaze angled up to watch the closest television monitor.

"Hey!" Clark's light baritone caused her to start upright. He rested his hand on the back of the office chair and used the other to push his glasses up. "I found one, finally. Sorry it took so long. I'm going to have to tell Mr. White to have someone check out that storeroom, it was a complete mess."

Trish shook her head, grinning up at him, "It's no problem, Mr. Kent. You just missed it." Pointing at the television screen, "They were just breaking some news that Superman foiled an armored car heist," she informed him.

Following her pointing finger, he watched the news ticker at the bottom of the screen, reading the bulletin with interest. Even though he'd been back for a couple of weeks, he still hadn't quite adjusted to seeing his picture on so many screens at once. "He did? Huh. Anyone hurt?" Clark asked, though he already knew that while one of the armored car guards had been shot, it was a minor injury.

"They just say some injuries have been reported." As he looked down at her, the teen realized she was still in his chair and quickly got to her feet. He moved to the right to go around her, only to find she'd moved to her left, thus she was still in front of him. So he moved to his left, and she moved as well, but she was in his way again.

Raising one eyebrow, Trish asked with a grin, "Shall we dance? Sorry, my father always says that when that happens. You need a bigger work area, I think."

Clark just stood still and smiled in a half-shy way, laughing as he gestured with his hand for her to go past him to her new chair.

She took a seat, watching as he sat down. "Thanks for finding me a chair by the way. I appreciate it. Hey, I uh, went through these files like you asked?" She waved her hand over the neatly stacked pages on his desk. "They were all written by some guy named Norm Palmer. Is that your alias or something? Kind of like a secret identity?"

"A secret identity?" Clark blinked at her, and then looked down at the papers. "Oh. No, no. Norm Palmer used to sit at this desk before I came back. I still haven't had a chance to clean out the rest of his stuff, I guess. He died a few weeks before I started back here at the Planet. It was his time," he explained delicately.

Trish's blonde head nodded. "Ah. Well, I proofed them anyway just to be on the safe side."

Clark gathered up the papers and slipped them into the file case. "I'm sure Mr. White will want to look through them, and make sure that something important wasn't in there. If you find any more of his stuff, just set it aside and I'll take care of it, all right?"

"Yep," she said, hopping up from her chair to walk over to where her navy blue backpack was hanging on the coat rack. She dug through a pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. As she reclaimed her seat, she wadded up the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash can at the opposite end of the desk. "So what'd you want me to do now?" she inquired.

He didn't answer, his attention was directed to a point somewhere over her shoulder, and she turned to look that direction. "You lookin' for Ms. Lane? She went out for lunch about five minutes before you came back with Richard White." She blew a small bubble until it blew with a soft pop. "He's cute. She's a lucky woman."

Clark swiveled his gaze back toward Trish. "Yes she is," he agreed. He looked away and started to rummage through the drawers in his desk.

Trish's expression turned speculative as she chewed her gum, looking up at the television again, and then around the room, which seemed less crowded than it had been earlier. "So what do we do for lunch around here, Mr. Kent? Order out or what?"

"Call me Clark, please," he said absently as he found what he was looking for. He withdrew the small pad of post-its and made a note, then stuck the sticky piece of paper to the file case. "Lunch? Is it that late already?" he asked, glancing at his watch in surprise.

"Uh, yeah? Well it's not really late late, but it's almost noon. I've been here since 7:30 this morning and I'm starving," Trish said bluntly, then blew another larger bubble.

Clark got out of his chair and pushed it up under his desk. "I'll show you the cafeteria, since that's probably where you'll be going the most."

"Exactly how many televisions does this building have, anyway?" Trish wondered a short time later as she unwrapped her roast beef sandwich, glancing up at the monitor on the wall, then around the busy cafeteria.

That got a crooked grin from Clark, "Well they just don't want us to miss out on a big story, is all," as he unfolded his paper napkin and stuffed one corner of it into his shirt, spreading it out to serve as a makeshift bib.

The fifteen year old girl stared at him in disbelief as she held her sandwich up, poised to take a bite out of it. No one put their napkins in their shirts like that anymore, she thought. Well, not anyone who didn't want to be made fun of for the rest of their lives. She arced an eyebrow upward as the dark haired man took a large bite of his tuna salad, and a creamy dollop dropped down to land in the middle of his chest. Ok, so he looked doofy but the napkin was obviously a necessary part of this particular person's lunch, if he didn't want to be wearing it for the rest of the day.

"Something wrong?" Clark asked as he caught sight of her expression, pushing his glasses up in that curious gesture.

Trish cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Uh, no. I was just thinking." She hurried took a bite of her sandwich so she'd be unable to say more, and then looked up to watch the latest news.

"...and authorities still have no leads on the whereabouts of criminal mastermind Lex Luthor, or his alleged accomplice, Katherine Kowalski, who seemingly vanished into thin air after creating an enormous land mass in the water near the city of Metropolis," said the beautiful blond ECN news anchor, as pictures of the bald man and the strikingly dark-haired woman were shown on the screen. "A collective reward of more than $1 million is being offered by various agencies, including the Daily Planet and the FBI, for information leading to their arrest and conviction. Astronomers say the crystal island, which was hurled into space by Superman, is still moving away from Earth and had the potential to be broken up into smaller pieces as it passes through the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter." A warm smile appeared on the anchors face, and she said, "And speaking of the Man of Steel, he seems to have completely recovered from his near death experience after being stabbed with a makeshift kryptonite dagger by Lex Luthor. He's been spotted all over the world since then, most recently outside Philadelphia helping with a train derailment that took place this morning, and then again in Metropolis, when he stopped three men from hijacking an armored car..." She went on in more detail for a few more moments before cutting to a commercial break.

They ate together in companionable silence while listening to the report. Trish quickly worked her way through her sandwich and picked up a napkin, wiping her mouth. "Do you think it left a scar? You know, where Lex Luthor stabbed Superman with that piece of kryptonite?"

"Yes," Clark responded immediately, shifting in his seat. She turned her attention from the television to him, and he explained, "Well I mean... It just stands to reason. It's the only thing that could hurt him, and he was stabbed pretty deep with it. Surely something like that would leave a scar, even on Superman."

Tossing her napkin aside, Trish folded her arms inward and leaned on her elbows, observing without warning, "You know, in a way, Superman was kinda stupid."

That pronouncement caught Clark completely off guard right as he was taking a sip of soda, and he coughed to hide his surprise. "Excuse me?"

She hastened to explain, "I mean, I'm not trying to be offensive or anything, I know that he's practically family around here. And I'm just as glad as everyone else that he's back. But really, he was stupid when he told people that he was vulnerable to kryptonite way back when." She waved a hand, trying to get her point across. "I mean, why reveal his only weakness to the entire world?"

Clark considered that as he used a clean edge of the napkin to wipe his mouth with, before pulling it out of his shirt and tossing it onto the plate. "Well. Maybe when he did, he wasn't thinking in terms of people who might use it as a weapon against him. Maybe instead he was trying to, you know, show that he had flaws like everyone else in the world. To make himself seem more human."

The girl looked down at her empty plate as she thought that over, and then nodded understanding. "Yeah, I can see where you're coming from."

"Trish." He spoke her name quietly, and her eyes lifted to meet his. "One of the most important parts of being a reporter is trying to see the reasoning of things from all angles. Think about it, some of best articles are the ones that are written from the viewpoints no one else has thought of, or been able to cover."

"I understand, Mr. Kent," Trish smiled. "I can see why some of your articles are so good now. You know, all the other students in my class would kill to be sitting where I am now," she informed him, then shuddered dramatically. "I can still feel the death look that Allison Vandervelt gave me when Mr. Foster said I was the one who got to come here."

Clark's crooked grin reappeared at that. "Clark. Not Mr. Kent. That reminds me, what kind of hours are you going to be putting in? I tend to be in and out of the office all day chasing leads, that kind of thing. But if I have an idea of when you're going to be there, I'll try to include you as much as possible. If I'm not there, I'll probably just leave a note on my desk so you know what you're supposed to be doing, at least."

The girl laughed at that, "If I could, I think I'd move into the office, but for some reason I don't think my parents or Mr. White would go for that. I'll come most days right when I get out of school, so that'd get me here about 2:30pm. Mom'll want me home in time for dinner though, so I'd have to leave by 6 or so. As long as I keep my grades up, they'll be cool with me staying longer. Weekends, I can be here whenever. You gotta realize, Mr.. I mean, Clark, this is like.. I mean it's kind of like a job but it's so much bigger than that. I still can't believe that Mr. White agreed to it."

He nodded his head, "Swell! That schedule sounds like it will work out fine."

Trish blinked at that exclamation, and then remembered something. She dug into her backpack and pulled her cell phone out, running her thumb over the touch surface and looking at him. "Let me get your number so that if there's some kind of problem, I can let you know. And let me give you my number too."

Looking amused, Clark said, "I'm afraid I don't have a cell phone. Or a pager either for that matter."

Trish gave him a disbelieving look, "Are you kidding? You're not one of those people who was freaked out by that last Stephen King book, were you? I mean, it was just a story. That man is twisted."

An expression of confusion appeared on Clark's face. "...Stephen King book?"

"Never mind. Well, how can I get in touch with you then?"

"Just leave a message at the office," he suggested. "They'll make sure I get it, trust me." Clark reached inside his jacket, pulling out a pen and small notepad. "Ok, what was your number?" He jotted it down as she rattled it off, and then got to his feet, picking up his tray. "Ready to head back upstairs?"

"Yep," Trish said, standing to sling her backpack over shoulder before picking up her own tray.

A few minutes later, they walking down the carpet aisle back toward Clark's desk. "So seriously, do you know Superman?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Sure." Clark's brow furrowed and he clarified, "I mean, well I've seen him around a few times."

Trish shook her head. "I mean, have you ever really talked to him? Does he like, stop by the office regularly or anything? Maybe to see Ms. Lane?" She looked toward where the desk of Daily Planet's top reporter was, and her eyebrows rose as she took note of the small crowd of people gathered around the desk. "She always gets the best stories on him, doesn't she," she observed with something approaching jealousy, darting a glance in his direction at her side to gauge his response. Only he wasn't beside her anymore. "Clark?"

He was standing a couple of steps behind her, his blue eyes utterly fixated on Lois Lane, slack-jawed. She had just worked her way out of the cluster of people at her desk, turning to explain something to Gil before hurrying into Mr. White's office.

And in her hand glittered a clear crystal shard.


	4. Time and Tide

A/N I had been wanting to do a chapter from Lois' perspective (well my perception of her perspective) and got a little carried away. Sorry if you feel that it overwhelms this particular chapter but I basically had the choice of putting it in now all in one piece or breaking it up into parts to reveal little by little. A monster inside me said go ahead and get it out of the way ;)

* * *

Chapter 3: Time and Tide

Clark couldn't help his reaction to the sight of seeing the father crystal in Lois' possession. And he had no idea how it got there. When he'd seen "New Krypton", as it was being called, rising from the depths of the ocean last week, he'd presumed that Lex had taken them all from the Fortress of Solitude. Then again, knowing how resourceful Lois Lane was, she had probably stolen it back right under Luthor's nose while she was held on the Gertrude. It was yet another one of the many reasons he loved her. An admiring smile crept across his face.

He dimly heard his name being called and it took a superhuman effort for him to look away from Lois and the father crystal she held. "Hmm?" Trish was standing a few feet in front of him, and he gave a slight shake of his head as if coming out of a reverie, allowing his dark hair to flop over his forehead even more than usual so his expression was hidden. The girl gave him a quick nod, her brown eyes sharp with interest as she looked between Clark and the conversation taking place between Lois and Perry in the large office. Showing unusual grace, he nimbly made his way around her to sit down at his desk, and opened his file drawer.

Pausing only to dig another piece of gum out of her backpack, Trish took a seat as well. "So... What's the story?" she asked curiously.

"Oh these?" Clark's fingers flipped through the tabs and he withdrew a manilla folder, opening it to verify the contents before offering it to her. "These are some human interest pieces I've been checking out for the last few days. Sort through them, pick out which ones you think have the most potential and tell me why. If you can think of anything pertinent to add, just make a note of it."

"That's not what I was referring to," Trish took the folder and flashed a smile at him as her brown eyes flicked from Clark to the dark-haired woman in White's office.

His mouth opened and closed, fish-like, as Clark tried to formulate an appropriate response. "I, uh..."

The teen immediately shook her head, apologizing, "I'm sorry, it's none of my business, I'm being way too nosy. I'll just keep my mouth shut and get to work." She retrieved a notebook and pen from her backpack, and opened the folder to spread the contents out on the small end cabinet.

Clark inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he dug out his recorder and notebook, fumbling with the wires for the headphones for a moment. To all intents and purposes, it would appear that he was going to be transcribing the results of an interview to notepad for the next few hours. In reality, he was listening in on every word that was being said in Perry White's office.

* * *

The crystal felt like a shard of ice in Lois Lane's hand as she followed editor-in-chief Perry White into his office, turning to close the glass doors behind her. He gestured at one of the heavy leather chairs before his sharp eyes caught sight of what she held. "What's that?"

"This?" Lois admitted, "I'm not really sure just yet. It was in a package on my desk when I got back from lunch. No return address.." She stared down at it, watching the light from the windows behind Perry's desk reflect in a brilliant rainbow of colors. "It looks like one of the crystals that I saw on the Gertrude while we were being held by Lex Luthor. I think he stole them from Superman, though I'm not exactly sure how."

"Great Caesar's ghost," the Chief exhaled slowly, and warned, "Just keep it away from water. We don't want another New Krypton the second growing in the middle of Metropolis."

Grimacing at the image that invoked, Lois stated, "Don't worry, I'll be extra careful with it," as she slipped into her skirt pocket.

"Actually, this may work to our advantage, Lois," Perry started, half leaning, half sitting on the corner of his desk as he regarded her with arms crossed, "It's been nearly a week since Superman got out of the hospital. He's all over the news, but no one, including anyone here at the Planet," here he paused to give her a significant look, "has been able to get a word out of him regarding his injuries. Not even when he was here putting the globe back on the building. Now you've got an even better reason to get in touch with him."

"Well," Lois responded, "he's always done interviews on his terms, if you'll recall. It's not like I can wave my hand or whistle like I'm calling a taxi and expect him to appear, you know."

"How do you know, have you ever tried that?" Perry immediately asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "While you're at it, ask him to take off his shirt or whatever the top part of his uniform is called long enough for you to get a look where he was stabbed."

Lois couldn't help it, her mouth dropped open in utter disbelief. "You want me to ask him to take off his clothes? Are you insane?"

"What? You're an investigative reporter, aren't you? I'm sure you can figure out a way." He walked around the edge of his desk and picked up the phone, punching out a few numbers. The meeting was over.

Lois got to her feet and headed out of the office to her desk. She pulled the crystal out of her pocket as she sat down, examining it closely and letting her mind drift. The past six days had been a blur, really, and she hadn't seen Superman at all since his visit the night he'd recovered from his injuries. When she'd seen him drifting out over the water heading away, she immediately knew that he'd been checking in on her son, Jason. _Their_ son, she corrected herself with a grimace.

In all honesty she was still trying to wrap her mind around that one. Superman was the father of her child. It sounded more like a tacky tabloid piece than the truth.

For five years, wispy images of the romantic interlude in the Fortress of Solitude had fluttered through her memories like butterflies scattering in the wind on a cloudy day. And while each image seemed to be a small piece of a bigger whole, all together it was a puzzle that she could not put together, possibly because it had missing pieces.

For the life of her, she could not remember the exact details that led up to Superman's decision to take her to the Fortress in the first place. She and Clark had been working on uncovering some honeymooner scam at Niagara Falls, that part she had pieced together from things that people had said to her afterwards and by doing a little research in the newspaper's archives. The icy chill of the river (though not how she had managed to fall into it) was also etched into her memory, as was the fear and concern on Clark's face when she'd been pulled out of it gasping and choking. That time, Superman had not appeared to save her, and she guessed he'd been off averting some disaster elsewhere at the time.

Apparently something had happened soon after that'd led her to leave her co-worker behind when she'd vanished with Superman to the north. Who knows, maybe being deserted by her like that was one of the reasons Clark had decided to 'go see the world'.

Lois could remember the intimate dinner, that immense bed, the love and tenderness he'd shown when they'd shared it, and the joy she'd felt as she cuddled against his strong chest. But things got a little fuzzy after that. Lex Luthor had shown up at some point though and brought with him the three villains from Krypton who'd been released from the Phantom Zone, General Zod, Ursa and Non. Anticipating Lex's duplicitous nature, Superman had tricked them into shutting him in a secure chamber while an eerie red light had washed through the crystal fortress, draining the criminals of their powers permanently.

After defeating the three Kryptonians, they'd returned to Metropolis to continue on as if nothing had happened between them, and a short time later the meteor shower took place. The news about the discovery of Krypton was released. And then Superman vanished.

Ironically, Richard White had started working at the Planet the same day that Lois had discovered she was pregnant. He'd shown interest in her from the very beginning and she'd done little to discourage him. When he asked her out on a date, she said yes, more to prove to herself that her life had more to it than reporting and her relationship with a man that had vanished without saying a word than out of a real desire to get involved with someone.

If Superman had been born without invulnerability, immense strength and the gifts of unassisted flight, his name would have been Richard White. He was without a doubt one of the most amazing men Lois had ever met in her life. He was handsome, funny, interesting, intelligent, and had an absolute passion for flying.

As her pregnancy became more difficult to hide, she finally broke down and told him that she'd had a one-night-stand with a guy who'd vanished immediately afterwards. He'd comforted her, kissed away her tears and assured her that he would be there for her and the baby no matter what. A month later, he asked her to marry him and she said yes, without hesitating. Soon after, together they welcomed Jason Michael White into their lives. Lois would never forget the joyous expression on Richard's face when she'd put him as Jason's father on the birth certificate. Most people assumed he was the father, and neither Lois nor Richard bothered to correct them.

Despite being the offspring of someone invulnerable to injury and disease, Jason had a surprising number of health issues as a child. The allergies were the worst part. Even the simplest foods had the potential to make him deathly ill, and it was only through experimentation that they could determine which ones he'd react to.

Jason's troubling health issues had been eclipsed by the joys of being a parent though. Lois had never seen herself as a 'motherly' type, but she couldn't help but love the little blue-eyed miracle that had entered their lives. He brought more happiness to her life than reporting ever had.

But every time a milestone in Jason's life was reached, his first smile, his first tooth, his first step, his first day of school, Lois couldn't help but feel more resentful toward the one who'd sired him, then left without a word. Finally it reached a point when it boiled over in the form of a surprisingly therapeutic editorial, entitled, "Why the World Doesn't Need Superman." Though it was intended to be a personal catharsis, Richard had caught sight of it and strongly encouraged her to turn it in to Perry White. It was subsequently published and led to her greatest accolade as a reporter, the Pulitzer Prize.

And then Superman returned.

When Lois had seen that streak of red and blue zip by the plane's window, at first she'd thought it was a terror-induced hallucination. As the crippled 777 had gone into a spinning dive, tossing her around inside the jet like she was little more than a rag doll, she didn't have time to think of anything at all other than getting buckled in, for all the good that would have done her if the plane had actually hit the ground at that velocity. Instead, it'd been brought to a screeching halt and set down in the middle of the baseball stadium in front of thousands of deliriously happy fans.

On the plane, they'd stared at each other in disbelief, all of them wondering the same thing, "How are we still alive?" Then there was another crunch of metal as the door was ripped off the fuselage and tossed aside like a child's broken tinker toy, and the hiss of the emergency ramp inflating.

The reason for their continued existence ducked his head slightly as he walked through the doorway (she'd forgotten how tall he was!) and inquired with polite concern, "Is everyone all right?" No one responded, they were all struck dumb as the shock of their surviving the landing was replaced by the shock of the reappearance of Superman after a five year absence.

Lois had hauled herself to her feet, staring at him and stunned into utter silence. He looked at her with those unbelievably deep blue eyes and the timber of his voice was far more intimate when he asked, "Are you ok?" All she could do was incline her head in response, her mouth opening and closing. A tiny smile quirked his lips and he glanced over the rest of the passengers. "Well, I hope this little incident hasn't put any of you off flying. Statistically speaking, it's still the safest way to travel."

Superman had turned to leave the plane, and everyone on board erupted into a riot of noise and questions that he ignored, as he usually did. He paused in the doorway as the baseball stadium fans went mad with cheers, and then flew up and away. Lois had pushed her way past the other passengers to watch him fly off, mouth still open with shock. And then it suddenly hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks.

He was back.

He'd saved her again.

And he had a son that he didn't even know existed.

It was too much, and she collapsed helplessly into a dead faint, sliding down the inflatable ramp.

It would be a few days before Lois saw him again, up on the roof of the Daily Planet. She'd done her best to avoid the subject of his return, but it was impossible, since he was literally everywhere.

Five years of resentment, anger and frustration came out with a vengeance under the spinning globe on the top of the building. She had imagined that whole time that she'd feel better after confronting him, but she didn't. Knowing that he'd been on an interstellar voyage in search of his lost heritage had not made her feel better about venting either. "How could you leave us like that?" she had demanded coldly. "The world doesn't need a savior, and neither do I."

Her words hurt him, she could tell. But that was the point, wasn't it? To hurt him as much as she'd been hurt by his leaving? No matter what Clark said, it really wasn't that hard to say goodbye. When he'd taken her on the all too brief flight above Metropolis, and said in such a sad tone, "You wrote the world doesn't need a savior, but every day I hear people crying out for one," she felt the anger begin to melt away.

On the way back to the Daily Planet, she'd looked over and seen the house she and Jason shared with Richard, thinking of all the wonderful things that'd taken place in there. She'd gazed back up at Superman and it suddenly occurred to her that he must never get a break, never get a chance to share in the normal things in life that so many people took for granted. The nonstop international coverage of his feats were proof of the fact that he never seemed to rest. He was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. Assuming it wasn't a leap year.

And even if he did want to take a break, where would he go, that he could just blend in with people and just relax? He didn't wear a mask to protect his identity the way other super heroes did, and as a result his face was instantly recognizable in every country around the world. If people screamed in an effort to get his attention when he was flying overhead, how much worse would it be if he walked among them in normal clothing?

As they'd slowly descended back to the rooftop, it all seemed so familiar to her. The feeling of his arms around her, and the loving look in his blue eyes. She was leaning forward to kiss him, and then suddenly that picture of her, Jason and Richard that sat on her desk had flashed before her eyes. "Richard is a good man, and you've been gone a long time," she finally said. His blue eyes were full of pain as they met hers, and he said quietly, "I know," and turned to walk away.

"I..." Lois had started to say something, she couldn't even remember what, but he had immediately turned and gave the slightest shake of his head, that simple motion conveying his thought, "Don't. Don't say anything that you may regret. Or that makes this any harder than it already is."

So she'd managed a half-smile and a far more neutral question instead, "Will we see you again?"

"I'm always around," Superman replied with a wry smile of his own, before rising into the darkness.

The next time she saw him was when together she and Richard pulled him bleeding and half dead from the water at the base of New Krypton. He began to recover almost instantly after she used the pliers to pull that jagged piece of kryptonite from his back and threw it out of the seaplane. Staggering to his feet with his head lowered, he seemed to come to a painful decision and then opened the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but she already knew. Richard half-turned in his seat, watching.

"I have to go back," he said resolutely.

"You're hurt."

It seemed like such a silly excuse in retrospect, and she saw that he recognized that. Squaring his shoulders in the doorway, he just stared at her for a long moment, savoring what might be his last ever sight of Lois Lane, if Lex Luthor had his way. "Goodbye, Lois."

Her mind had flashed back to that she'd said to Clark that day, out in front of the Daily Planet. "What's so difficult about saying goodbye?" she'd ranted, "It's easy! 'Goodbye!' What's so hard about saying goodbye?" But looking into Superman's face, seeing the love, the regret, and even the fear of what he was about to face when he went back to that crystalline island in his eyes, she knew that Clark had been right after all. Sometimes 'Goodbye' was not easy at all to say. Especially when it could be goodbye forever.

Then, when the news was blaring on every network about how Superman had been critically injured, Lois didn't think she'd ever loved Richard more than she did when he walked up and offered to drive them to the hospital. It was just the kind of man he was.

Lois had been stunned by how unnaturally still Superman's face was as he lay in the hospital bed, and she wondered if it had actually been a forever goodbye. So she'd bent and whispered, "Jason is your son, and I forgive you for not saying goodbye," into his ear. There wasn't a miraculous instantaneous recovery, and he didn't even show any signs he'd heard. Seeing him later that night floating above the water with a smile on his face, she felt surge of relief so strong that it made her chest hurt. After he soared off, she had gone inside and written what she now considered to be the best editorial of her life, "Why the World Needs Superman."

The sound of a phone ringing at the desk opposite hers brought Lois out of her reverie. Sitting upright again, she picked up the thickly padded package the crystal had arrived in and carefully replaced it. Then she pulled her laptop computer a little closer, gearing up for some serious Internet research on the subject of crystals.

* * *

A/N part 2. Lois' dismissal of the possibility of Superman living a normal life came to me after reading the Superman Wikipedia entry (scroll down to the section on Clark Kent). Superman doesn't wear a mask, so how could he even hope to hide among us? As comic book readers and movie fans, we know that Superman has an alterego who lives as a normal human among us. But if we lived in the comic book universe, would we automatically assume that such a larger-than-life being as Superman would deign to walk among us? If I showed you a picture and told you it was of viceroy butterflies, would you take me at my word, or would you look for the true monarch butterfly that is hidden among them? If you don't know it's there, or don't believe it's there, why would you even waste the time to look?


	5. Research and Development

Chapter 4: Research and Development

Trish skimmed through the folder of human interest stories, writing in her notepad a brief description of each one. She was doing her best to stay focused on her assigned task, but found that she kept getting distracted by everything going on around her. She'd never imagined that a newsroom like the Planet's would be so active. Having so many televisions going all at the same time, most on different stations, didn't help the noise level much either.

It will take me weeks to get used to this place, she thought to herself and she heaved a sigh, blowing a wisp of blond hair out of her eyes. Clark, who was sitting only a couple feet away from her, seemed oblivious to all of the goings on, his dark head bent down and pen held at the ready as he listened to whoever or whatever was on the little recorder. He coughed with sudden amusement, meeting Trish's eyes for a moment, his own blue ones bright with humor before they slid away from her to find Lois Lane, who was still in the Chief's office. As the teen raised an eyebrow inquisitively, he gestured at the headphones with a crooked grin to indicate the source of his good humor. Must be a funny interview he was listening to, the girl surmised.

That gave Trish an idea, and she lightly touched his arm to get his attention as she pointed down at her backpack. "Hey," she began as he stopped playback, "would it be ok if I listened to some music on my Ipod while I do this? I'm having a hard time concentrating, it's so busy in here. I promise to keep the volume way down." As if anyone would hear it over the racket in the office anyway.

"Your what?" the reporter asked, looking bewildered.

"My Iphone." She withdrew the Ipod from the side pocket of her backpack, giving the little electronic device a slight shake in his direction.

Clark stared at it as if he'd never seen one before, then pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Oh, uh, yeah sure."

"Thanks," Trish said with relief, putting the tiny buds into her ears and starting playback of her favorite playlist. The music kept the bustle of the newsroom at bay enough for her to finally be able to concentrate on her duty, and she lost herself in the articles. Her only distractions in the next two hours came during the times Clark got up from his desk, presumably to check a lead or run some errands.

After one such interruption, she watched his tall form walk briskly away from her toward the doors leading to the elevators, a slight frown on her face. There was something... strange about Clark. Not scary strange or freaky strange, just a niggling awareness of something being half a bubble off center. She gave a mental shrug and got back to reading. It'd come to her eventually.

Trish had just finished sorting the articles and her notes into three piles, Boring, Possibly, and Interesting, when a small plaid shirt moved within range of her peripheral vision and she heard a young voice pipe up, "Hi!"

Sitting up in her chair and removing her earphones, Trish smiled at the little boy, who had blue eyes and looked to be in dire need of a haircut, in her opinion at least. He was cute and probably around four or five years old. "Hi there. What's your name?" The child didn't answer, merely looked past her toward Clark's empty chair, and the teen told him, "He went off on some errand a few minutes ago. He'll be back soon, I bet."

He expression turned to one of disappointment, but he still introduced himself, "I'm Jason. That's my mommy over there." He pointed in the direction of Lois Lane, who appeared to be reading something on her computer screen.

"Well I'm Trish," she replied with a smile, rising to her feet as she offered him her hand. "Let's go back over there before she starts worrying about you, okay?"

Jason put his smaller hand into Trish's as she got to her feet, and lead the way back to Lois' desk.

When they reached the dark-haired woman's desk, Trish suddenly found herself tongue-tied. Lois Lane was probably the best and most famous reporter in all of Metropolis, she'd won the Pulitzer Prize, and she probably was on Superman's speed dial list, if her articles on that famous persona were anything to go by. The blonde teenager cleared her throat after a moment, "Um. Ms. Lane?"

Lois jerked her head up at the interruption, looking from Trish down to Jason. Emitting a light laugh, she held her hand out to the little boy, "Are you pestering the new people again? I thought you were in Daddy's office."

Jason made a face, "Daddy's office is boring," in a tone that implied this wasn't the first time he'd voiced that complaint.

Trish smiled, "He wasn't pestering me at all, he just came over to say 'Hi', and introduced himself." She was about to add more when Lois looked beyond her to someone walking up.

"Excuse me," Clark apologized as he nearly tripped over Gil's chair before rounding the edge of Lois' desk. Smiling first at Jason and then at Lois, he said, "Hi. Hope I'm not interrupting..."

"Not at all, Clark," Lois smiled indulgently. "I was just meeting your new...," here she paused, looking toward Trish with an eyebrow raised, as though awaiting verification of the girl's official title.

"...Shadow," the fifteen-year-old supplied with an impish grin, glancing at Clark. "I'm Trish Mason, and it's an honor to meet you, Ms. Lane," she said with respect, offering the older woman her hand.

Clark shifted from one foot to the other as the two greeted each other, though he did wiggle his fingers at Jason. That got him a broad smile in return from the little boy.

"Nice to meet you, Trish, and thank you for returning my wayward son," Lois bent down to tickle the child. "You have your inhaler, right?"

Jason rolled his eyes, giving the timeless complaint of children who feel they're being over-mothered. "Mo-oom..."

The woman laughed, "All right, all right. Come on, let's get you back in Daddy's office, I bet he's looking for you... Excuse me just a moment," Lois took her son's hand and lead him toward her fiance's office, which was a short distance away.

Trish glanced up at Clark, who was watching Lois and Jason walk away with a wistful expression on his face. Thoughtfully, she turned to look at Lois' desk. A family picture of Richard, Lois and Jason caught her eye, and the girl picked it up for a closer look. The glass was cracked and no doubt it'd been one of many things that'd been damaged when the quakes caused by New Krypton hit the area. But the picture itself was unmarked, and depicted a very happy family.

The dark-haired reporter returned a few moments later, smiling, and Trish replaced the picture on the desk, commenting, "Your little boy is very sweet. I know we've only just met, but if you ever need a babysitter, let me know. I can give you references and everything. You have a lovely family. Jason has his father's blue eyes, I noticed."

Lois' bright smile faltered. "Yes he does. Thank you." She regained her composure, slipping back into her desk chair. "And I'll definitely keep your offer in mind. It's always nice to have a backup sitter in case something comes up."

Clearing his throat, Clark adjusted his glasses and gestured at a thick padded envelope on the desk, "So Lois, I heard from Jimmy you got something pretty weird in the mail?" and looked at her with expectation.

"I did," Lois affirmed, picking up the package to withdraw the large crystal. It glittered a rainbow of colors in the office light. "I think I know who sent it to me, though I have no idea why. Maybe she has a guilty conscience or something."

Trish looked at the shard in fascination. "I heard someone say it was Superman's. Is that true? Are you going to give it back to him?"

Clark moved closer and reached out, his long fingers almost touching the crystal, but right before they made contact, Lois turned away and returned it to the envelope. "I will when I see him again. Whenever that is. Oh hey, any luck finding a place to live?"

Stuffing a hand in his pocket, Clark nodded and lowered his head, "Yes, actually, I signed a lease about an hour ago. It's small but more than enough for me."

Lois nodded, reclaiming her chair and turning to type something into the browser window on her computer.

Trish glanced up at Clark, who was just staring at the Pulitzer prize winning reporter. She'd seen that type of expression before, though never on someone his age. He has a big time crush on Lois, she thought, and I bet she doesn't even have a clue.

The girl said, "Well it was great to meet you, Ms. Lane. Oh!" She jogged back to Clark's desk for a moment then returned, scribbling something down onto a post-it note before holding it out to Lois. "Here's my number. Just in case."

Lois took the note with a distracted, "Thanks," her attention focused on the computer screen in front of her.

Trish looked up at Clark. "Mr. Kent, I have a question about one of those articles you told me to look over..."

Dragging his gaze away from Lois, Clark looked blankly at Trish. "Wha?.. Oh! Right, right, the articles. Let's get on that," he said as he headed back to his desk, the blonde teen following a few steps behind.

Lois didn't even appear to notice they'd left her work area.

"So here's the one I liked the best," Trish said and picked up a couple of pieces of paper. "MMORPGs are really popular among younger people, and given the fact that Superman is in the news so much, what better time to cover these games that let people take their turn at playing heroes and super heroes?"

Clark asked, "What's an MMORPG?" and as he sank into his chair, a wayward elbow bonked into the phone and knocked it to the ground with a clatter. "Oops." Ducking his head so that his dark hair flopped over his forehead even more, he bent to pick it up and listen for a dial tone. A sigh of relief escaped him, "Swell, it still works."

Trish had always been exceptionally perceptive. It was one of the reasons she was determined to be a reporter, because she felt that she had a talent for noticing details that most other people missed. And as she watched Clark fumble with the phone, she suddenly realized what was so peculiar about his mannerisms.

The faster he moved, the more nimble he became. And the slower and more deliberate his actions, the more likely he was to turn into a total klutz.

Which seemed like it was the exact opposite of the way things normally would be. She could understand people tripping over themselves from trying to hurry from one place to another, or getting into a rush and accidentally knocking stuff over. But with Clark, it was the times when he was in a hurry that he exhibited extraordinary grace. Conversely, when he was doing something as simple as moving folders from one place to another, sitting down, or even just standing around chatting with other people in the office, he was practically a health hazard.

Trish thought back to the times he'd left the office that day. He'd appeared to be a rush every time, but he had managed not to bump into anyone, knock anything down, or trip over anything. And given the height and build of the man, and the small size of the work area he now shared with her, that just seemed physically impossible. There'd been one exception, and that was when he'd tripped over the leg of her chair and nearly taken out the printer on his way to speak to Jimmy Olsen.

On his returns from those errands, he'd lost any semblance of his former grace and reverted back into Clark the Klutz. It appeared that the old saying, "Haste makes waste" didn't apply to Mr. Clark Kent. She didn't really know what to make of it.

"So?" he asked, pushing his glasses up. She suddenly realized she must have been staring at him.

Trish flashed him a grin and said in a light tone, "Your nickname must be Butterfingers, or something like that."

His blue eyes were bright and amused. "Not exactly."

The girl shook her head, and began to explain, "Ok, well MMORPG stands for Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game. There's quite a few of them out there now. Some are bad and some are good... and some actually end up taking the place of a real social life for certain people..."


	6. Show and Tell

A/N Thanks to Lachesis Brown for your invaluable input for this chapter! You helped cement quite a few things for me :)

Chapter 5: Show and Tell

The next few days were somewhat uneventful, both for Clark Kent and his alter ego. The violent crime rate had dropped to its lowest level in five years since Superman had returned. There were still accidents and natural disasters happening because not much could be done to stop most of those, but he was no where near as busy as he'd been those first couple of days after donning the suit. Clark had been 'in the right place at the right time' and had gotten some exclusive interviews with people who'd been saved by Superman just moments before. The Chief was thrilled, and like all articles regarding the caped hero, they were well received by Daily Planet readers.

He'd gotten settled into his new studio apartment. Clark's worldly possessions fit into the two suitcases he'd brought from Smallville with him with room to spare.. Even so, he still had to get a few basics for his new place, namely a bed, couch, desk and most importantly, a satellite television receiver that was programmed to pick up every single network and news channel available through the system.

The apartment was tiny, but its single window conveniently overlooked the dumpsters in the alley stories below. Thus, the times when Superman did leave from the apartment, he was at a very low risk of being spotted., especially since he was moving so fast.

As far as his new 'assistant' went, despite her disastrous first few hours at the Planet, Trish Mason settled into a daily routine with ease. Every day she came in straight from leaving her high school, and she was typically gone by 6:30 pm or so. Clark made sure to leave some work on her 'desk' to keep her busy. She did her best to be useful to everyone while she was there, volunteering to make coffee, run photocopies, and complete other menial tasks that most people considered annoyances. Even Perry White had grudgingly admitted that her being there wasn't a "total waste", which for him was glowing praise.

Best of all was that Jason had become attached to her. He always came over to talk to Clark anyway and show off his drawings, but Trish being at his desk made the child even more likely to spend time there. They arrived at the office at about the same time every day, and since Trish was closest to the little boy's age, he naturally gravitated to her. Both Lois and Richard indulged the boy in his desire to be near Trish, as it kept him out of trouble and in easy view.

She brought a splitter and extra headphones so that the two could both listen to her Ipod at the same time, and he'd stand beside her, his face intent and serious as he colored while she worked. Clark was content for any excuse to have his son near, and started to keep a ready stock of crayons, coloring books and paper available in his desk for these times.

After arranging it with the principal and her journalism teacher, Clark had shown up for a surprise visit to Trish's high school earlier that day to do some interviews for the online gaming article. When he'd appeared at the classroom door to the delight of the instructor, Mr. Foster, Trish had appeared to be both surprised and embarrassed by his presence, especially when he gave her a lopsided grin and waved.

Mr. Foster had urged him to talk to the class about what life as a reporter was really like. At first Clark demurred, but after seeing the crestfallen expression on Trish's face, he agreed to give the journalism class a brief explanation of his duties at the Daily Planet, and then answered some questions. Naturally there were some who wanted to know how often he'd seen Superman at the Daily Planet since his return, but most were honest questions about what it was really like to be an accomplished journalist.

As the Q&A session ended, Clark was able to talk to a few of the high school kids on their experiences involving MMORPGs and console games. Trish fidgeted nervously during the interviews, but still asked a couple of questions he'd not considered. And luckily, the teenagers they conversed with were more than happy to describe their gaming habits, likes and dislikes. All in all, when he left the school, Clark felt like it'd been time well spent and the article was going to be a good one, especially for a human interest article.

Clark had planned on heading straight back to the newsroom, but a ferry sank in rough waters off the coast of Indonesia so he flew there instead and helped pull scores of survivors from the water.

He flew back to Metropolis at a leisurely pace, his mood reflective. Trish was a smart kid, which was both good and bad. Clark had no doubt she'd make an excellent investigative reporter someday. But he'd never realized until recently how much his cover of working at the newsroom involved fading into the background. People at the office knew him, of course. But with the exceptions of Jimmy Olsen and to a far lesser extent, Lois, few had ever taken the opportunity to get to know him better outside of work.

With Trish working in such close proximity, keeping a low profile was far more difficult. His departures from the office to 'chase leads' still let him make the change over to Superman when he wanted to, but her being right there ninety percent of the time meant he had to take even more care not to reveal clues as to his real identity.

Since that first day that he knocked over the phone, he'd caught her staring at him a few times with the same expression, one that was both puzzled and thoughtful. There wasn't a hint of recognition or anything in her eyes, but she seemed to sense that there was far more to him than just good ol' "Butterfingers" Kent.

The bright lights of Metropolis were just coming into view, and Clark veered to head toward the spinning globe atop the Daily Planet building. Almost immediately, he noticed backlit form of Lois. He wondered how long she'd been up there. Judging from the impatient expression on her face, she'd been up there for a while. He still hadn't seen her as Superman since the night of his recovery. The last few nights he'd spent hovering around both the Planet and her house by the river, hoping to catch her alone so she had an opportunity to return his father crystal, but she apparently had been shunning the usual open areas where he might show up.

"What the hell," he heard her mutter as she came to a some decision, and lifted her hand in a familiar gesture, as though flagging down a cab in front of the Daily Planet. How could he resist? He zipped in, landing in front of her.

"Where to, ma'am?" Superman asked, a slight smile on his face. He had to bite back a laugh as he saw the incredulous look on her face.

"How did you...?" Lois started and then shook her head, holding up a hand as if to stop his answer. "Nevermind, I don't want to know. You just get back from Indonesia?" Ever the investigative reporter.

Clark inclined his head, allowing, "I was there, yes."

Restless, she shifted from one foot to the other, studying him. "Are you all right? I mean, your injuries, you're fully recovered? No lasting effects or scars?" She tried unsuccessfully to keep the worried note out of her tone.

His answering smile was reassuring, "I'm fine. No lasting ill effects at all that I'm aware of. Thank you for asking." He didn't address the part about scars.

Relief flickered across her face. After a moment of silence, Lois stated, "I've... I've been looking for you," and her eyes slid away from his.

"Have you." It was more of a statement than a question, the inflection in his voice relaying that he knew good and well she'd been avoiding him. Clark crossed his arms as he regarded her.

Caught, Lois had the good grace to flush. "Well, I wanted..." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to put thought into word. "I don't know. Anyway, here." She reached into her pocket and withdrew the crystal in a quick gesture, as if trying to get the action over with in a hurry and held it out. "I got this in the mail a couple of days ago. I guess from Kitty Kowalski." A smile twisted her lips. "At least I assume she sent it. I can't imagine that Lex Luthor did, or any of those thugs who worked for him."

The shard glittered in the low light emanating from the slowly spinning globe. Clark's arms dropped to his sides and he slowly walked toward her. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the crystal to take it from her, it began to glow with an iridescent green light.

Lois gasped and jerked her fingers away.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked, his voice sharp worry.

She just stared at the radiating green crystal and her brown eyes flicked up to meet his. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong, I just... It surprised me, is all. It didn't do that when Lex was touching it. Or when I touched it either."

His face relaxed, and he stated simply, "It knows me." The glow was beginning to fade now, and he held it loosely in his hand.

"Oh. Right." An awkward silence ensued as they stared at each other before Lois said, "Aren't you going to ask me how he's doing?"

He instantly knew who she was referring to, and a smile appeared on his face as he thought of Jason. Their son. "I keep an eye on him. And an ear open."

Lois began to rub her arms as if chilled, muttering, "Right. Of course you do. Did you know he's got a new friend at the office?"

An easy grin came to Superman's face as he thought about Jason coloring with Trish, "I had heard that."

"You have? How did you... nevermind. He likes her. She's nice enough for a teenager. Well, nicer than I was, at that age," Lois allowed, quirking her eyebrows.

Clark watched her for a moment and then asked a question he'd been wondering about ever since he'd woken from his kryptonite induced coma. "How did you know? I mean, when did you realize that he was mine. Ours," he corrected himself.

"I remembered," Lois informed him, tilting her head to look up into his gaze.

"You remember everything?" he asked, stiffening with surprise. She wasn't supposed to remember everything.

Her dark brows drew down into a frown, "I think so. I remember you and I..." Her hand made a slight gesture in the air and the dim light did nothing to hide the rosy flush rising in her cheeks. "In the ice palace. I remember a glowing red light and those other Kryptonians losing their powers. I remember you brought me back to Metropolis. That's everything, right?"

Carefully considering his answer, Clark was unwilling to lie to her. So he settled for the truth, as much as he could. "Just about everything, yes." Except for the part that included Superman and Clark Kent were one and the same. He directed her attention elsewhere, "So you knew all along that he was my son?"

Lois gave a shake of her dark head, "No. I mean, yes... I suspected, but... You were the only one I'd been with. And then you were gone." Pain at the memory filled her eyes. "I couldn't believe it at first, that I was pregnant. I guess I didn't even think it was possible." A broken laugh escaped her, "But it had to be either you, or immaculate conception."

A surge of regret swept through him. "Lois, you know I never would have left if I'd known." He didn't know any plainer way to put it.

"Yeah, well...hindsight is twenty-twenty." A wavery smile appeared on her face, one that didn't meet her eyes. "So you were gone. And Richard came to Metropolis about the same time you disappeared. We started spending time together, on the job at first, and then after work. He was with me through the pregnancy, the labor, the... through everything." Everything he had not been there for because he'd been off on a wild goose chase for his heritage. She paused, and said again what she'd said to him that night on the rooftop that seemed like it'd happened an eon ago in retrospect. "Richard is a good man."

Clark nodded agreement, his blue eyes steady on her face. "Yes he is." How could he do anything else? Richard was a good man, one of the best, from what he'd seen. "Does he know?"

Lois turned away to gaze out at the darkened city. "He knows Jason isn't his son. I told him when we met that I'd been in a relationship that ended abruptly. And that I had no contact with the father. Both of which were true." Her chin tilted upward in that familiar stubborn way. "Jason doesn't know though. He thinks Richard is his father. There's never been any reason for him to think or know otherwise." She grimaced, "Well, there wasn't."

Shifting from one foot to the other, he sensed that there was something she hadn't told him yet. "What happened?"

Closing her eyes at the memory, Lois admitted, "Jason threw a grand piano at one of Lex's thugs. He was about to... It was right after I got caught sending the fax. He raised his arm to bash my head with this rock or something, and then, the next thing I know the piano flew across the room. It crushed him." Her lashes lifted to reveal her troubled gaze. "Jason killed that man to save me."

Clark felt a wave of complex emotions wash over him. On one hand, he was overwhelmingly relieved that Jason had kept Lois from being hurt, but on the other hand, the fact that he had killed another person to do it made things far more difficult. As Superman, he always did his best not to harm the criminals he apprehended. His duty was to protect people, not to serve as judge, jury and executioner. But then, he had time to develop the control needed to keep people from being seriously injured, unlike Jason. "How is he now? Is he... all right?"

Lois turned to face him again, a slight shrug lifting one of her shoulders. "He said he was sorry. We haven't really talked about it since. I still haven't even told Richard anything. Anything, I mean, about you and I, or about what Jason did on _The Gertrude_. I just don't know how to tell him. What do I say? 'Hey Richard, I think I should have mentioned this before, but Jason is Superman's son and we're going to have a hard time grounding him when he gets older since he can already toss pianos around like they're Lincoln logs.' Yeah, that'll go over well," she said with dry humor.

He began to pace in front of her, trying to think of the best way to manage the matter. "My mot.." His words cut off suddenly. My mother and father, he'd been about to say, but caught himself before he completed the sentence. Clark dodged meeting her curious look, and then stated, "I began to show evidence of my strength very early on. At about three or four years old, I'd guess. I didn't do it often, just every now and then-when I was frustrated, or excited. It wasn't until I was twelve or thirteen that the other things came on. The vision, hearing. Flight."

Lois considered his words, and wondered, "Do you think he will be able to fly someday?" as she nervously pulled on a lock of dark hair.

"I don't know," Clark told her, gesturing helplessly with one hand. "It's not like I have any reference to go off of. I'm the only one. Or I was." He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

Lois gave a weak laugh, "I have no idea, what do you want to do?"

"What I want to do and what this," and here he gestured at himself, cape, red boots and all, "will allow me to do are entirely different things. I want to spend time with my son. There's so much I've already missed." His dark eyelashes dropped down, shadowing the pain in his eyes from her. Superman turned the father crystal over in his hands, thinking of the vast store of knowledge it held. "There are things he'll need to know when he gets older, especially as his powers-whatever they may be-develop."

She nodded understanding, and then made a face. "I need to think of how to tell Richard first. Then together, we'll decide what to tell Jason. And when to do so."

"Whatever you decide, I'm sure it will be fine with me."

They both seemed to have run out of things to talk about for now, and Lois lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. "So. I guess you be around if we need you?"

Clark gave her a genuine smile, she had to know how he'd respond to that. "I'm always around." He began to rise into the sky, "Good night, Lois." The faint green glow of the crystal showed his flight path as he rose high into the sky until he was out of her sight beyond the clouds.

He soared up into the stratosphere, still holding the father crystal, which he regarded thoughtfully. He had to put it someplace safe. Someplace where no one would ever find it and use it as a weapon again. But yet some place that it'd always be available to him if he needed to talk to Jor-El and Lara.

It was dark on this side of Earth, but the light of the sun reflected onto him from the surface of the moon, far above. And that gave him the idea.

The newsroom was practically empty by the time Clark got back to his desk to check memos and emails one last time before he headed out for the night. There was a folded piece of Daily Planet stationery taped to his keyboard. He opened it and grinned as he read,

"Butterfingers,

My notes on the interviews are in the bottom drawer, first folder. Don't think that you are getting off that easy for the stunt you pulled earlier. You can't avoid me forever. I can't believe you didn't even tell me ahead of time so that I could have at least been prepared!

Trish

PS Thank you."


	7. Pure and Simple

Chapter 6: Pure and Simple

It was just about time for the last bell of the day to ring at Rutherford B. Hayes High School, and the small work groups in Trish's journalism class had all but dissolved. She was double checking to make sure she'd remembered to put the present for Jason into her backpack. It was just a little rubber stamp collection, but she'd seen them and thought he would like having them in addition to his crayons.

"So you think you're going to see Mr. Kent today?" her friend Stacy asked as she watched, one elbow hanging over the edge of her chair.

Trish grinned, zipping the backpack shut. "I imagine so. He's there every day. Well, almost every day," she corrected. "He wasn't there yesterday. Jimmy, er, I mean, Mr. Olsen said that he may have been following up on those Superman articles he wrote the other day."

"That is so cool," admired Stacy. "I still can't believe he actually came and spoke to our class. Yesterday I tried to see if someone from my station would come in and give a speech or something, and they all looked at me like I had a zit the size of Metropolis on the end of my nose."

"It was very cool," Trish agreed. "I wish he had told me ahead of time, so I could have been prepared, though. I couldn't believe my eyes when Mr. Foster let him into the classroom. It was kinda embarrassing."

Stacy sniffed, "Whatever. I don't know what you were embarrassed about, I'd have been so excited I wouldn't have been able to sit still."

Trish tried to explain, "I guess because I didn't know he was coming, so I wasn't, I don't know, mentally prepared, or something." She shrugged helplessly and pushed a swath of hair back behind her ear. That wasn't really very well explained. Although all of the students in her class had been assigned to be go-fers at television, print, and radio stations around Metropolis, so far Clark Kent was the only one from any of the media types that had shown enough interest to visit the journalism class and high school so far. Trish had been delighted that he had come, though of course she had done her best to keep her cool. "I was just really surprised."

"Yeah well you're lucky. I got assigned to a 50-year old woman at the radio station looks like a skankier version of Courtney Love and has the voice of Fran Drescher," Stacy informed her friend, who laughed at the colorful description. "And you get assigned to the incredibly tall, well-built cute guy at the Daily Planet. Life isn't fair," she sighed with dramatic melancholy, holding a hand to her forehead, but was unable to hold the mood for more than a couple of seconds before giggling along with Trish. "I bet he looks even better when he doesn't wear glasses, most guys do."

A snide voice broke into their conversation. "What incredibly tall cute guy would you two be talking about?" asked Allison Vandervelt with haughty toss of her head from where she was sitting a row over. "I don't see what you're making a big deal out of, Stacy. It wasn't like Superman was up there. It was just some geek. Who, I might add, looks like his wardrobe came second hand from a 1960s Goodwill handout, and who also managed to, in the space of less than five minutes, knock over a stack of papers and a cup of pens off of Mr. Foster's desk in two separate incidents. Not to mention how he nearly fell out of the chair when he sat down."

Trish flushed on Clark's behalf, though the man himself had been no more embarrassed by his clumsiness than he usually was. "Well he must be doing something right, since he's had how many articles on the cover page of the Daily Planet this week?" she challenged, lifting her chin as she glared at Allison.

"Just ignore her, Trish. I'm sure she's meeting lots of big names while she's at the Weekly Bulletin," Stacy muttered to her friend with a sidelong grin, just loud enough for Allison to hear the snub. The Bulletin was a tiny free paper that rehashed the events of the previous week, but rarely had news of its 'own' to report.

Allison's face turned bright red at the taunt, but she was saved from responding by the sound of the final class bell. She got to her feet and stalked out the class.

Trish exhaled slowly and rolled her eyes toward Stacy. "Superman gets Lex Luthor, and I get Allison Vandervelt."

The brunette laughed, as she stood up to leave the room. "Maybe he'll trade?"

"One can only hope," Trish grinned, before Mr. Foster called her name. "See ya Monday Stacy," she said to her friend and then headed to the front of the class, unable to help feeling a bit nervous. Had he seen her little 'discussion' with Allison?

Mr. Foster, a gray-haired man in his late 40s at her estimate, smiled kindly as she approached, "Patricia, I just wanted to say that you must be making quite an impression on the Daily Planet if they're willing to send one of their finest reporters here to talk to the students."

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment, and Trish finally managed to say, "Um. Yeah, I guess. Thank you."

"Would you mind giving this to Mr. Kent?" The journalism teacher held out an envelope with the reporter's name neatly typed across the front. "It's just an official thank you and an invitation to come back anytime."

"Sure," Trish said, taking the letter with a broad grin. "I'll make sure he gets it today." She put the note in her backpack. "Anything else?"

"Just keep up the good work," Mr. Foster said as he gave her a thumbs-up. The girl nodded and left the class room.

A short time later, Trish had arrived at her work area at the Daily Planet. According to breaking news being shown on a few of the televisions, Superman had just broken up a bank robbery in Miami, Florida. Clark was nowhere to be seen, but she knew he'd been at his desk at some point in the past twenty-four hours because her note to him was gone. She was still getting settled in when a voice came from behind her.

"Hi," Jason said. Today he was wearing a pair of loose blue trousers and a very outdated white and blue checkered button down shirt with a grey sweater vest. Not for the first time since coming to the newsroom, the teen found herself wondering if Lois knew that she was shopping for her son's clothing at the same thrift store Clark had gotten his wardrobe from.

"Heya Jase," Trish returned, and pulled the brown paper bag out of her backpack. "I've got a little something special for you," she informed the little boy with a grin.

The boy's blue eyes lit up with excitement. "You do? What is it?"

"Well let's go make sure your mom and dad are ok with you having them first, all right?" Trish said, and Jason nodded eagerly, taking her hand. A quick glance revealed that Lois wasn't at her desk, but in Richard White's office, having a discussion with the assistant editor. The teen lead Jason over there. Richard saw them before she could lift her hand to knock, and gestured her to come on in even as he walked toward the door with a smile for his son.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Trish said as she closed the glass doors behind her, watching as Jason went to give his father a hug.

"Hey, little guy," Richard said, bending down to give Jason an affectionate hug. Lois leaned on the large desk, watching with an inscrutable expression. "No, not at all. Actually we were about to come talk to you," the man admitted as he stood back up.

Trish blinked, "You were? What for?" Her surprise had all but taken away any tact she might have typically had.

Lois had to chuckle at the girl's tone and walked over. "Well actually, we were wondering if you would be free to baby sit Jason tonight. I know it's very short notice so I'd understand if you couldn't. But Richard and I, we'd planned on going out tonight. I actually had some family lined up but there's some kind of bug going around, and I don't want Jason to get sick."

"Oh!" exclaimed Trish, "Sure that'd be great. And fun, right Jase?" The blonde teen grinned at the little boy's returning smile. "I will need to okay it with my Mom and Dad, since they're still expecting me home by 7pm, but it shouldn't be any problem. Any idea how long you two will be out for, so I can give them an idea of when I'll be home?"

Richard looked at Lois, eyebrows raised in query. The dark-haired woman shrugged with an uncertain smile, "Hopefully by midnight. If you like, we can swing by your parent's house so you can pick up an extra change of clothes in case you'd prefer to stay the night instead of getting back so late, so long as your parents are fine with that. We have a guest bedroom you can sleep in."

Trish nodded, "That'd work too." She felt a small hand give her own a pointed tug. "Oh, before I forget, I got Jason a little present," she shook the brown paper bag. "Just wanted to make sure you guys would be okay with me giving it to him."

"Please Mommy, Daddy," Jason put in for good measure, his expression hopeful.

Richard chuckled and gave her a knowing look. "Don't you think that you should have asked us before you told Jason that you got him something?"

"Actually this is usually the perfect time to ask, in my experience anyway," Trish replied with an impish grin.

Lois laughed at the girl's logic. "She's got a point. Yes, he can have it."

Jason jumped with excitement, eagerly opening the bag as Trish gave it over. "Stamps! Can I go play with them now?" he demanded.

"Yes," Richard bent down to look the boy in the eye, saying, "but you can only use them on your coloring paper. Not anything else. Got it? Otherwise Perry will hit the ceiling. Which reminds me, he wanted to speak to me about something," he headed for the door.

Clutching the stamps to his chest, Jason said, "I won't, Daddy," then followed his father out of the office, eager to try out his new present..

"I'll call my mom right now Ms. Lane, if you don't mind waiting just a sec," Trish said, pulling her cell phone out to make the call, walking off to one side of the room.

Lois watched through the office windows, a thoughtful expression on her face as Jason carried his coloring stuff over to Trish's chair and sat down. Clark was back at his desk, and after exchanging a few words with the little boy, he bent to admire the new stamps and the work of art in progress.

A quiet conversation later, Trish lowered her phone as she came to stand beside Lois, "Mom said it was fine, but said that if you guys will be back around midnight, then I should definitely get a change of clothes to be on the safe side. That way she and Dad won't be staying up all night wondering when I'll be home."

Nodding, Lois said, "Great, I'll tell Richard it's on then. If you had said no, Clark was next on our list of people to ask to baby sit." She gestured at the tall man, who was still stooped over the child. "He gets along so well with Jason. It's funny but I never thought of Clark as a..." The reporter was at a loss for the exact word that would denote her meaning, and finally said, "I never thought he'd get along so well with a child."

Trish was surprised by that admission. "Really? I thought you two worked together a lot a few years back."

Lois appeared to be embarrassed, "We did, but I guess I never really paid attention. He's so low key."

"It's probably because he's a little shy, but he's kind and gentle, too. He really likes Jason," the blonde teen informed Lois. "He keeps extra paper and crayons in his desk drawers for him, and stuff like that. Actually he's pretty good with kids in general, if yesterday was anything to go by."

"Yesterday? What happened yesterday?" Lois was far too inquisitive to let that comment slide by.

Trish grinned, "He visited my high school journalism class, and did a little speech on what it was like to be a reporter, that kind of thing. It was really pretty cool, the other kids in my class really were impressed." Allison Vandervelt's face appeared in the girl's mind and she corrected, "Well almost all of them, anyway. And afterwards he interviewed some of the students for the article."

"He did?" Surprised, Lois examined Clark with a slightly puzzled expression. "I just, I don't know, I'm having a hard time picturing him in that kind of scenario," she admitted.

Now that didn't surprise Trish at all. Despite the fact that Clark majorly crushed on Lois, she seemed oblivious to it. In fact, the teen doubted Lois had ever even looked twice at the man, except for as competition on big scoops. Then again, she had Richard, so she probably didn't pay much attention to other men at all.

Trish considered her response, thinking about her interactions with Clark and Jason in the time since she'd started at the Daily Planet. "Jason and I both like Clark for the same reasons. When he talks to us, he doesn't talk down to us, or treat us like we're less intelligent just because we're younger. And when we talk to him, he actually listens and seems to care about what we are saying. He doesn't just pat us on the head and say, 'Oh that's nice. Now run along and play.' You know what I mean? Stuff like that is important to kids, even ones as young as Jason. There's not many adults around that care enough to do stuff like that. He's awesome," she summed up simply. "I don't think I could have asked to be assigned to assist anyone better here at the Planet."

Lois listened, but looked as though she was having trouble with the fact that both she and Trish were talking about the same person. Apparently Clark and 'awesome' weren't two words that she'd ever considered putting together. "I see where you're coming from," she said, though she sounded dubious.

Her champion defended, Trish nodded with satisfaction and walked over to open the office door. "Well, I'd better get back to work. Just let me know when you're ready to leave, all right Ms. Lane?"

"I will," Lois replied, still studying Jason and Clark.

Trish walked over to her desk, nudging Jason so he lifted up enough for her to scoot into her chair and settle him on her lap with a smile. "Heya Jase. How're the stamps working out?" Her voice when she greeted Clark was much cooler, "Hello Mr. Kent."

Clark looked crestfallen as he heard her tone, sitting up a little in his chair. "You're not really mad at me, are you?" His blue eyes were worried, and he pushed his glasses up in that familiar gesture.

"Ohh I like that shooting star one," Trish told Jason, pointing it out and earning a smile in response. Clark received a sidelong glance, "I guess not too mad. Even though I really wish you had told me you would be coming. Anyway, thank you. Seriously. It was pretty cool that you came. Everyone in the class thought you were great." She decided against mentioning Allison.

Looking relieved, Clark said, "Well I would have told you but you were at school when I decided to come. I couldn't call you on your phone and tell you while you were at class, could I?" His head ducked forward and dark hair flopped over his forehead.

Trish allowed, "I suppose not."

"So what were you in Richard's office for?" Clark inquired as he looked that way, watching as Lois exited the office and went to her desk. "You didn't pull a 'Supersneeze' on another first run, did you?" His crooked grin was mischievous.

"Ha Ha," Trish said with dry humor, rolling her eyes as a tiny smile played across her lips. "No, not this time. He and Ms. Lane asked me if I could babysit Jase tonight." She gave the little boy an affectionate hug and settled him more comfortably on her lap.

"Oh? That sounds swell," he said, grinning as the little boy looked up at him.

Trish laughed, "It is pretty swell. We're gonna have a ton of fun, too, won't we Jase?"

"Yep," replied the little boy as he put another shooting star right over Superman's head on his picture.

"What about you," the teen asked Clark with no small amount of curiosity. "What do you usually do on Friday nights?"

"Well," the man said, adjusting his glasses again, "Fridays can be pretty busy when it comes to newsworthy things happening. I'll probably try to keep up with that stuff. If it's quiet, I may just read, or watch TV."

Trish wrinkled her nose, "Sounds exciting." She thoughtfully studied the planes of his face for a long moment, long enough that Clark began to shift at her examination. "Out of curiosity, have you ever considered wearing contact lenses?"

"I uh," Clark wouldn't meet her eyes, "I thought about it but I really can't imagine having something on my eyes like that all the time."

Nodding with wry understanding, Trish said, "I was just curious. I feel the same way actually, I can't stand to have anything near my eyes." She shuddered, admitting, "I am so very glad I have 20/20 vision."

Jason slid off her lap and smiled at Clark and Trish. "I'm going to show this to Mommy and Daddy," he held up his picture.

"I'm sure they'll both love it," the dark-haired man said with relief, glad when Trish shifted her attention from him to the child. "I'm sure they'll both love it." The two watched Jason trot off, and then Clark turned and said in a more businesslike tone, "Trish, I'm hoping we can finish the final draft of this article and present it to Mr. White today."

"Oh great! Did you get my notes from those interviews I left you last night?" Trish asked, as they got down to work.


	8. Stand and Deliver

Chapter 7: Stand and Deliver

A few hours later, Lois was showing Trish around their beautiful house by the river. It was already past sunset, and the view across the river of Metropolis was amazing.

Jason was in the living room, playing what sounded like, "I've Been Working on the Railroad" on the electric keyboard set up on the coffee table, and Richard was adjusting his tie. He looked dashingly handsome as usual.

Lois seemed very tense, though Trish supposed that was understandable given it was her first time there as a babysitter. "He always keeps his inhaler in his pocket, and we keep quite a few spares around the house just to be on the safe side. I left one right there on the kitchen table," she pointed it out. "He hasn't needed to use it since, well not for a couple of weeks now. But as I said, just to be on the safe side."

Trish nodded, leaning against the counter.

Gesturing with one hand, Lois said, "It also seems like he finally is growing out of some of the allergies he's had since he was a baby. We already ate supper but you can give him an apple or some grapes as a snack if he gets hungry later, and there's some fruit juice in the refrigerator as well. We're not really sure what all he's still allergic to, so don't give him anything else." She fixed her son with a stern look, "No matter how much he begs. Bedtime is at 8:30."

Grinning, Trish said, "Gotcha. Apple, grapes, juice. Nothing else. And these are the phone numbers?" She pointed at a dry-erase board attached to the fridge amidst a multitude of crayon colored pictures.

"Yes, that has Richard and my cell phones, the restaurant, and my parents. If you have any problems or questions, just give us a call," Lois ordered. "Can you think of anything else?" she asked her fiance, looking in his direction.

"No, I think you covered pretty much everything, and then some," Richard said with a smile, then glanced at his wrist watch. "If we don't leave, we're not going to keep our reservations." Rounding the edge of the coffee table, he bent down and gave Jason a hug. "Have fun, little guy."

Jason smiled up at him, "We will, Daddy."

Lois rubbed her hands together in an almost nervous gesture, and strode over to hug Jason as well. "You be good."

"Yes, Mommy," the little boy said patiently, ready to be done with all the fuss of leaving. Trish bit back a smile as she followed the two adults to the door.

"Have a good time," the blonde teen said, watching the two adults as they shrugged on light jackets and walked toward the car. Jason was already back to playing the piano again, and Trish shut the door, turning to look at the child. "So, what do you want to do?"

He shrugged, not pausing in his playing. He really was pretty good, for being just five years old.

Trish nodded and wandered back into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water, and as she used the dispensers on the door, she studied the pictures there. A couple she recognized as drawings Jason had made while sitting at Clark's desk.

One picture in particular caught her eye, and she set her drink down on the counter before moving magnets out of the way to pull it out for a closer look. It depicted Superman flying up in front of the sun holding Lois's hand, she held Richard's, and Richard in turn held Jason's.

She suddenly realized that she no longer could hear the sound of the piano playing in the other room, and a movement at her elbow made her look down. Jason was standing there, his small face solemn as he looked at the picture she held. "That's when he saved Mommy, Daddy and me from the bald man's boat."

Trish didn't really know what to say in response to that. On one hand, she wanted to know everything that happened, but then again she didn't want to dredge up memories that surely had to have been terrifying for the little boy. Finally she managed an answer that was decidedly neutral. "That must have been something else."

Jason nodded sober, "He saved us, then I saw him in the water and Mommy and Daddy jumped in and pulled him out and saved him, then Mommy pulled the long green knife out of his back, and then he said goodbye and flew up into the sun and then saved everyone when he pushed the dark place into the sky. And then he fell. Mommy and I went and saw him in the hospital. He looked like he was sleeping. His suit was on the chair. I got to touch it." His words halted as he reflected back on that with a slight smile.

Trish was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information that accompanied such a simple explanation of the details of that fateful day. "What'd your mommy do with the kryptonite? The green knife?"

"Threw it out the door into the ocean," Jason informed her matter-of-factly. "It was hurting him. He screamed when she took it out. But he got better right away afterwards." His sad blue eyes met her stunned brown ones. "Everyone at my school said that Superman can't be hurt, but he can. He can."

Biting her lip, Trish was silent for a long moment. Then she reminded him quietly, "Only by kryptonite. If there wasn't any kryptonite, he could never be hurt again."

Jason thought that over and seemed to come to a decision. He squared his little shoulders and stated, "When I get big and stronger, I'm going to find all the kryptonite in the world and hide it, so no one can ever hurt Superman again. I like him."

The blonde girl reached out to take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. "I think that'd be a great thing to do when you grow up. In fact, would you want a helper?" Trish asked with a smile.

"I guess," he replied, looking more cheerful. "Daddy says two heads are better than one."

"It's a deal then," Trish squeezed the boy's hand affectionately again, and then was turning to replace the picture on the refrigerator when something occurred to her. "Jason? You said Superman's costume was on the chair?"

"Yeah?" The boy's brow furrowed and he looked up at her. "Why?"

"So when Superman was in the hospital, you know, sleeping? When you and your Mommy went and saw him. What did he look like?"

Jason was astonished that she'd even ask such a stupid question. "He looked like...uh," he seemed on the verge of saying one thing, but at the last second he just shrugged and said simply, "He looked like my friend." Changing the subject, he pointed at the refrigerator, "Can I have some grapes?"

Whatever Trish had been expecting as an answer, that wasn't it. Still, she hadn't ever heard Jason talk for so long at a given time. He was curious yes, but it was a quiet curiosity. "Oh yeah, sure." She found a small clean plate in the cupboard and after washing them, put some green grapes on it for the little boy.

The next hour or so passed in relative peace. She and Jason played with some of his toys, colored a bit, and nearly used up the blue colored star stamp she'd given him earlier that day. By eight that evening, she could tell he was getting sleepy, and so she began getting him ready for bed. He insisted he could put on his pajamas all by himself, so she left the room for a moment to take his dirty clothes to the laundry room. When she returned, he was leaning on his windowsill, windows wide open and curtains blowing in the cool breeze off of the river. The seaplane bobbed in the waters at the dock.

He didn't seem to notice her return, so intently was he staring up at the sky. "Ready for bed?" she asked, coming to stand beside him. She peered skyward as well. It was cloudy tonight, and the moon was full and bright. "What're you looking at? The moon? It sure is pretty tonight."

Jason shook his head, "No, I'm looking at Superman. See him? He's right there." The little boy pointed up. "He must be watching out for us cause he knows Mommy and Daddy aren't here."

Trish gasped with excitement. Superman was up there? She eagerly searched the skies for a sign of the hero, but saw nothing. "I can't see anything," she admitted with disappointment. After a brief pause, she asked, "What's he doing?"

Jason glanced at her, "You can't see him? He's right there," a jab with his small hand pinpointed the precise location in the sky. "He's just floating there in the sky, looking at us."

She still didn't see a thing resembling the caped superhero in the night sky, and was beginning to wonder if this wasn't some nightly ritual that Lois and Richard had neglected to mention. "Wait, how does he know your mom and dad aren't here?"

The little boy's expression indicated he was disappointed with her lack of insight. "He heard them ask you, and then he heard you talk about it," Jason reminded her.

Trish thought she understood, "Oh right. Because Superman can hear everything. Well tell him good night. It's past your bedtime now," the girl said with a smile, turning away from the window.

"Good night!" Jason called in his high pitched voice, waving furiously at the sky. A moment later, he announced in a pleased tone, "He smiled and waved back," and then crawled into his bed.

As Trish tucked the Aquaman sheets up under Jason's arms and turned out the light, she observed, "You know, you're one lucky boy, having Superman as a friend to watch over you and help keep you safe. And out of trouble," she playfully poked his side.

Jason giggled, squirming away from the tickle before a massive yawn escaped him. His eyes were already drooping when he told her, "He watches over you too." As an afterthought, the boy added around another yawn, "He watches over all his friends."

"But I'm not..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the child's eyes were already closed. 'Not his friend', she'd about to say. "Good night, Jase," Trish whispered, and bent to give the little boy a kiss on his forehead. He stirred and rolled over to his side, facing away from her.

She sat there on the side of his bed, watching him with a perplexed expression on her face. From everything she'd ever read or understood, Superman had always been particularly protective of Lois Lane. From Jason's words, that protective blanket now included her family and apparently anyone in her house, which was pretty cool, when she got to thinking about it.

The wind coming off the river was getting stronger and colder, and the curtains on the open windows fluttered wildly. Chilled, Trish stood up and walked over to close the windows. She happened to glance up and her heart leaped into her throat.

Superman was right there, floating in midair, a couple hundred feet away from the house and high above the seaplane. The full moon was behind him and cast a shadow over most of his face, while at the same time making his dark hair and shoulders glow with silvery light. A gust of wind caught the crimson cape and it whipped around his side. They regarded each other, her with amazement and him with serene amusement.

Trish had to say something before he flew off. A veritable plethora of witty and intelligent verbal responses flashed through her head, but all she could manage to put to words was a whispered, "Good night," and accompanied that with a tentative wave. Great. An 'A' in English and Journalism, and that was the best she could come up with?

A flash of white teeth in a smile were the indication he heard her, and he started to rise higher into the air, lifting his arms in front of him in that classic flight pose he often assumed. A second later he was rocketing up through the clouds and she quickly lost sight of him.

In a daze, she shut the doors to the window and latched them. As she reached the door to Jason's room and slipped through to the hallway, the boy's sleepy voice chided, "See, I told you he watched over his friends."

Trish couldn't help but smile broadly at that. "Good night, Jason," she told the boy.

* * *

Lois Lane wrapped her coat more tightly around her, trying to block off a chill that was as much from within as it was from the wind. She took Richard's hand in her own again, entwining her fingers with his.

"So...Are you ready to talk to me?" Richard asked without warning, causing her to stop walking and look up at him with surprise.

It was almost midnight now. They'd been out to eat, then had gone to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie, but even that had not lightened her mood for more than a few minutes. Now they were strolling through the Metropolis Riverfront Park. There were a few people scattered here and there along the well-lit walkways.

"How did you know?" Lois inquired, a rueful smile on her face.

Richard took her other hand in his, looking down at them. "I've said you'll always be a mystery, but you're not _that_ much of a mystery, that I can't tell when something is on your mind." His blue eyes were worried when he regarded her, "It's like you've been somewhere else all day. Are you all right?"

Lois paused for a moment and then nodded. "I'm fine." A nervous laugh escaped her. "I find it funny that someone who is supposed to have a way with words could have so many problems finding the right ones to say at times."

He didn't say anything, just stood holding her hands as the breeze ruffled his brown hair.

"Richard," Lois began as though carefully choosing each word, "Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when you asked me if I was in love with Superman?" She tilted her head back, lifting her chin as she met his eyes.

"I remember what you said in response." The barest hint of a smile reached his lips, and he said, "And I know that you lied. You _were_ in love with him." He shifted from one foot to the other, continuing, "And he was in love with you."

Startled dark brown eyes fluttered up to stare at him, "How did you know?" Lois wondered.

Richard's shoulder lifted in a shrug, "It was pretty obvious, that day that he saved us. You were lying there unconscious on the seaplane. He'd already done some kind of x-ray scan or something on you, so he knew you were going to be all right." Exhaling slowly, he revealed, "He just kept looking at you and it didn't take a genius to see that his feelings for you went beyond just rescuing a stranger... there was so much more to it than that. He didn't want to leave you. But he did. I guess he had to."

Lois pulled her hands from his and wrapped them around herself as she turned away for a moment. She drew a deep breath and faced him as she went on, "He swept me off my feet. Literally." A wry smile flickered across her face. "It was amazing. Almost like a dream, one where you don't want to wake up?"

Richard avoided meeting her gaze, appearing uncomfortable. How could he not be? No man wanted to hear things like this from the woman he loved.

"We were... intimate," she confessed softly and moved closer to him, her hand lifting to touch his arm. "Richard, I know this is hard to hear, but I want you to know everything."

His eyes drifted shut for a moment, and in a voice that was hoarse with pain, he told her, "Lois, I'm not sure I can take much more."

Lois slid her hand down to take his hand, "Please," she pleaded.

Drawing in a deep breath, he could only nod. "Fine. Go on."

Relieved as she was, Lois could not bring herself to meet his gaze when she asked, "Do you remember when I was pregnant and I told you that I hadn't had any contact with the father?"

Richard's jaw went slack when he understood. "Wait, are you trying to tell me that..."

She finished the sentence for him, "Jason is Superman's son."

H gaped at her and it took him some time to formulate a coherent response. "Are you sure? I mean, is it even possible for that to, I mean he's technically an alien, and the DNA..." his free hand gestured in midair and he shook his head as though clearing a fog.

A choked sound escaped Lois, "I have never exactly been one to sleep around, as you know. He was the only man I was with." Her eyebrows drew down into a confused frown, "When Jason was born, he was so small and fragile. And then the asthma, and the allergies, and everything else we went through, I don't really know what I thought. I mean, after all, how could Superman's son get sick? I know it seems impossible but..."

Richard was quiet for a thoughtful moment and quoted Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Lois shakily nodded her head, "Exactly. But if I had even an ounce of doubt, all that went away on _The Gertrude_ when..." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

"When what?" Richard demanded.

Inhaling, Lois confessed, "I knew for sure when he threw a grand piano across the room and killed one of Lex's lackeys. When we were on the boat." Her troubled dark eyes found his, "That's why we were locked in the pantry. They were afraid of him. Of what he could do to them."

Again, Richard found himself at a loss for words. "A piano? Are you sure it was him? Maybe the motion from New Krypton forming..." He wracked his brain, trying to come up with another logical explanation for the feat.

She interrupted the question to assure him, "It was Jason. The guy had picked up a rock or something and was about to hit me with it, and suddenly the piano flew into him. It must have killed him instantly. Jason was at least twenty feet away from us, and we were up on a dais, and the boat was in still waters at that time. There's no other way it could have happened, Richard." A tiny smile appeared on her face and she repeated, "'...whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'. I think that's why, ever since then he hasn't had signs of his asthma and his allergies seem to be going away. I guess his super genes are finally starting to catch up with him or something."

Richard ran a nervous hand through his thick brown hair, still trying to take it all in. "Did Superman know? That you were pregnant before he left?"

Lois was already shaking her head before he'd even finished asking the question. "No. He had no idea. Hell, I had no idea either, until after he'd already gone. If he'd known he never would have left."

"Yeah, I can't picture him abandoning..." Richard's head came up suddenly, "Wait, when did you talk to him?" He glanced beyond her shoulder, and then a quick gesture indicated that she should hold her response. A happy couple approached where they were on the path and slowly wandered past.

When they were out of hearing range, Lois admitted quietly, "Last night. I actually told him Jason was his son when we went to the hospital while he was in that coma. He was so still. I was hoping that it'd, I don't know, wake him up. Make him want to live. I guess in a way it did, since he seemed to recover soon after we left. Anyway I had to give him back that crystal Kitty Kowalski sent me. I told him about Jason using his, well, his powers then."

Richard took her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What'd he say about that?"

Lois recalled, "He said that he started having extraordinary strength at a very young age, younger than Jason even. But most of the other abilities didn't show up until he was around twelve. I guess they get stronger with the onset of puberty. So I guess we have time to prepare ourselves." A slight frown appeared on her face, and she gave a slight shake of her head, "But before he said that, well honestly it sounded like he started to say something else. I could swear he started to say 'My mother' ... but he cut himself off before he could finish the sentence, like he'd said something he didn't mean to say. He's never done that before. I remember thinking that was strange. Does Superman have a mother? I mean, a human mother? He's said he's the last of his kind, that there's no one else from Krypton still alive as far as he knows. What kind of human could raise Superman from a child and keep it a secret?"

Laughing weakly, Richard reminded Lois, "I think we may find out soon enough." A thought occurred to him, and he said, "You said you told him while you were in the hospital with Jason. Did Jason hear it too? Does he know?"

Lois shook her head, "No. At least I don't think so. I tried to be very careful to whisper it so he didn't hear." An appalled look appeared on her face and she fretted, "Do you think he heard it? Maybe he's got better hearing already."

He chuckled and reminded her, "If he does, then he's definitely been ignoring you when you said its time for his bath for the past week."

Relaxing, she said, "Good point. I think we should tell him together." She hesitated for a moment, and then added, "If you... I mean... I'd completely understand if you didn't want anything to do with me after all of this. I should have told you. I just didn't know how."

"Lois, look at me," Richard ordered, and as her brown eyes met his, he told her, "Nothing you've said has made me love you or Jason any less. I may not be his biological father but I am still his daddy. I just need to know, what will you do now?" He gave her a bittersweet smile, "Are you going to leave me? You still love him, after all."

Lifting a hand to touch the side of his face, Lois said honestly, "I think in a way I will always love him." Richard's head lowered in dejection, and her hand brushed his hair, "Let me finish. He was my first real love, you know? They say you never forget your first love. But at the same time, five years is a long time. I've changed, and I think he has too. Five years ago, I think I would have been happy with him dashing off to save whoever from whatever. I'd have taken those moments we spent together whenever and as best I could. But now, now I need someone I can love and depend on to be here for me. And for Jason. It's like... Superman is an ideal. He can't just 'belong' to one person. No matter how much love is there. I know that now, and I believe he does as well." She leaned up to brush a kiss to his lips, "I love you, Richard White."

Richard kissed her, "I love you too, Lois." A ragged laugh escaped him, and he admitted, "I'm glad that you said all that. I'm having enough of a problem competing for your time with our son and your job. I don't think I can take adding a superhero to the muddle and expect to win."

It seemed like Lois could relax for the first time in two weeks, and she rested her head on his shoulder in contentment.

"So..." Richard began, pausing only to brush a kiss to the top of her head, "How exactly are we going to wing this?"

"Wing what?" she queried.

"You know. Arranging Superman's visitations with Jason," Richard explained. "I mean, I don't know about you but I think that he has a right to see his child. I know I would if I found out someone I'd had a relationship with years ago had my child and I didn't know about it. Five years is a lot of time to make up."

"It is," Lois readily agreed. "He's missed a lot. He wanted to make sure that you were ok with all of this before we came to any decisions." She paused and added, "I think he really likes and respects you, Richard. And personally I don't think anyone could have done a better job of being Jason's dad than you've done."

"I have a lot of respect for him as well," Richard told her. "He saved our lives. He saved everyone, really. Even though I think he knew he might not make it out alive. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a little sad for him too. I mean, it's not like he can be a 'normal' father, you know? How will he take Jason to the zoo? Or out to McDonalds or simple things like that you and I take for granted?" He grinned suddenly, "Jason will have the other kids in his school totally beat when they do the letter S for Show and Tell though."

* * *

A/N (Huge, sorry but have things to say) -

This chapter was particularly grueling for me to write, not because of a writer's block or anything else, but because of the decisions that came out in the storyline. Trish fans, I know you're dying for her to find out that Clark is Superman, and in a way I am too. And I really struggled to come up with a 'realistic way' for her to encounter Superman that didn't involve an accident or tragedy, and that wouldn't automatically lead to her realizing, "OMG That's Clark!" Jason (in my story at least) knows Clark is Superman and I thought he'd be a far more original way to drop hints of the truth. Whether Trish puts the pieces together is a completely different matter.

For you Lois/Superman fans, I know many of you are disappointed that Lois is staying with Richard. I think I begged for input on the whole Richard/Superman/Lois thing from everyone I know RL that's seen the movie Superman Returns, and even a few people who haven't seen it. At first, I had planned on Richard leaving Lois, because I don't feel that he would put up with being second fiddle, even to someone like Superman. But then it occurred to me, Lois never asked him to do so. In fact, through her words and deeds in the movie, she gave (IMHO anyway) every indication that she intended on staying with Richard, despite the fact that she does still harbor feelings for Superman. Pushing Richard conveniently out of the picture to clear the path for a L/S romance to me doesn't do credit to the complexity of the characters that the actors so wonderfully portrayed in the movie.

Finally, I know that I promised Lex stuff this chapter, but it was getting so long that I decided to push it back to being the opening part of the chapter, which should be out in a couple of days. Thank you all for your reviews, comments and support. They're incredibly inspirational.


	9. Spite and Malice

A/N Here is the newest chapter (another long one!), complete with the Lex Luthor goodness! Er, badness. You know what I mean. And hey all of you reviewers, thank you sooo much for your support. This story is for you as much as it is for me :)

* * *

Chapter 8: Spite and Malice

Trish was so keyed up after Superman left that it took a major effort for her to do something as simple as walking down the stairs to sit on the couch. Her face started to ache because she couldn't suppress the huge idiotic smile was wearing. She had such a strong urge to laugh joyously that finally she gave in, burying her face in a couch cushion to muffle the sounds so she wouldn't wake Jason. She wanted to call every single person she knew, and yet at the same time she wanted to keep the experience all to herself. It was almost surreal.

After a little while, she had calmed down enough to record the entire experience in her journal. I can't believe all I said was 'Good night', she thought to herself as she reread the entry, ruefully shaking her head. Her artistic talent was mediocre at best, but she was able to make a basic sketch of him in the margin. The cape didn't come out too bad, she thought as she viewed the little drawing with a critical eye, but she couldn't make the same claim about the rest.

When ten o'clock rolled around, Trish called her parents and told them she'd just stay the night and that Richard and Lois would give her a ride home in the morning. She didn't mention seeing Superman. Not long after that, she realized the lingering excitement had completely exhausted her. She closed her journal, left a note for Richard and Lois, and went upstairs to get ready for bed. Even though as a general rule, she didn't sleep well when she was not in her own bed, once the light was turned off, she fell asleep almost immediately.

The following morning, Trish got up and ate breakfast with the White family. The teen and little boy both recounted their previous evening's activities with smiles, but neither of them mentioned Superman. Apparently the evening had done Lois and Richard some good as well, they both seemed far more relaxed with each other than they had the night before. Richard and Jason drove the girl home after they'd finished eating.

It was mid-afternoon before Trish got to the Daily Planet on Saturday. By that time she was just about to burst with the desire to tell someone - anyone - that she'd finally seen Superman in the flesh. Stacy must have been working at the radio station that day, because she wasn't answering her cell phone. She could have told her parents, but that just wasn't the kind of cool experience one shared with their parents before telling at least one other person.

Hoisting her backpack further up on her shoulder, the girl made her way through the newsroom to her chair. It looked like Richard and Lois had left for the day or were at least out of the office. Clark was at his desk, working on an article. "Afternoon, Clark," she said cheerfully as she took her seat and began to get settled in for a day's work, removing pen and notebook from her backpack before hanging it on the coat rack.

"Afternoon," he returned with a smile, his fingers a blur of motion as they typed on the keyboard. "How was the babysitting?" Clark gave her a brief glance before turning his attention back to his monitor.

"Fantastic. Incredible. Absolutely the best ever babysitting job I've ever had," Trish announced, beaming.

Clark's eyebrows lifted high enough to be obscured by the long hair flopping over his forehead at her words, and he stopped typing. "Wow. I didn't realize babysitting was such an exciting experience. I mean Jason's a great kid, don't get me wrong," he hastened to add, "But I am pretty sure I've never heard the job described quite so... effervescently."

Giggling, Trish admitted, "It's not usually. But it was just a great night all around. Jason and I talked..." She paused to add in a quieter and more serious tone, "I mean, really talked. He told me some of the stuff that happened right after New Krypton was formed. Being saved from the boat when it sank, how they helped save Superman and then went and saw him in the hospital. That kind of stuff."

She had his full attention now, and his expression was concerned. "Was he... ok? I mean, was he pretty broken up about it?"

Trish found herself startled by the intensity of his blue eyes as they bored into own brown ones. This must be his true investigative reporter side, she thought to herself, and said out loud, "No. I mean, he wasn't crying or anything. It was more like he was just, I don't know, pretty sad that anyone would want to hurt Superman." Recalling the boy's words, she repeated, "'Everyone at my school said that Superman can't be hurt. But he can. He can.' He said it just like that. It almost made me cry," she confessed as she looked away from him.

"Yes. I can see why. It is hard to comprehend why anyone would want to hurt Superman." Clark leaned forward to rest his elbow on his knee as his gaze dropped down to stare at the floor. "Did he say anything else?"

A slight smile quirked Trish's lips, "After that, he told me when he grew up he was going to find all the kryptonite in the world and hide it so no one could hurt Superman again. I offered to help," she added in a lighter tone.

"I wonder if he could use a little more help with that," Clark straightened up in his chair again as he adjusted his glasses and suggested, "Maybe you should tell Richard and Lois about this. I mean, about the conversation you had with Jason. The whole ordeal must have been very frightening for him. If..." he hesitated and then said quietly, "If he were my son, I think I'd want to know. I have to wonder if he's said a word to anyone else on his feelings about what happened before he talked to you last night."

Trish's brow furrowed as she remembered the little boy's demeanor, and finally she shook her head. "I really don't think he has, honestly. I mean, I don't imagine they even wanted to bring it up. I bet they wanted to let him come talk to them when he was ready. I'm not really sure what got him started talking to me, actually..." Her expression cleared, and she corrected, "No wait, yes I do. I was looking at a picture on the refrigerator he'd drawn of Superman saving them from Lex Luthor's boat. That's when he started talking."

"Well, you should definitely tell Lois or Richard, they would want to know that he's brought it up at least," he advised her, and she nodded.

"I will."

"Good." Clark straightened in his chair, and then asked with a frown, "Wait, was that the exciting, fantastic and incredible part of your babysitting last night?"

"Hmm?" Trish gave him a blank stare and then laughed. "Oh no. After that we played together with some of his toys. And he colored of course. I think I'm going to have to get him a new blue stamp, the shooting star one is already almost out of ink," she informed him, smiling. "The best part happened right after I had put him to bed. You'll never guess what happened."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Trish took a deep breath, that huge smile back on her face as she told him, "I saw Superman."

He looked suitably impressed. "No way. Really?"

Eagerly nodding her head, the girl said, "Yep really. I couldn't believe my eyes. I mean, Jason had said he saw him right before that, but I looked and looked but didn't see him. He said that Superman was keeping a watch out for us cause he knew Lois and Richard weren't home. I thought he was just putting me on, like it was some kind of tradition that helped him sleep better or something that his mom and dad did. But when I went back to the window to shut it, there he was, floating right over the river."

"Wow." Leaning forward, Clark asked her, "So what did he do? Better yet, what did you do? Did you say anything?"

At that question, Trish flushed. "Well I was so surprised and I was trying to think of something really cool to say before he flew off, you know? Like, 'See ya around', or 'How's the air up there?'" She heaved an embarrassed sigh as she admitted, "However, all I actually managed to say was 'Good night'. I know, I know, it's totally cheesy."

Clark struggled with laughter, his blue eyes bright with humor. "'Good night'," he repeated. "That's ... original."

"Hush, you," Trish growled, and playfully punched his arm. That was a mistake. It felt like she'd just hit a slab of granite. "Ow!" she yelped in surprise, and tears of pain stung her eyes.

He winced as well at the contact, but as he noticed her expression of genuine pain, he anxiously asked, "Are you ok?" A moment later, Clark demanded in a deeper and authoritative tone she'd never heard him use before, "Let me see it."

She offered him her injured hand without hesitation. He gently took it between his two much larger ones, his thumbs brushing over the back of her hand while he closely examined it. Trish winced when he stretched out her fingers, and as she wiped the tears away from her eyes with her good hand, she observed in a shaky voice, "Wow, Clark. You must really work out. That was like hitting a brick wall or something."

"I've been getting quite a bit of exercise the last few weeks," he confirmed in a voice that sounded far more normal. "It doesn't look like anything's broken. Can you can move your fingers?"

It took an effort, but she could open and shut close her palm and maneuver her fingers, though it hurt like hell to do so.

Satisfied by the demonstration, Clark let loose of her hand and pushed his glasses up, "What you probably did was didn't make a very good fist. They say you can break your hand pretty easy if you don't make one the right way."

Trish grimaced, studying her reddened knuckles. "Yeah, well I thought my dad had always told me that so I didn't go around hitting people, not because it was a real possibility."

Clark was still worried and apologetic, "I'm really sorry. Do you want me to go get you an ice pack or something?"

Mustering a smile, the teen assured him, "I'll be fine. It's not your fault. I think it's already starting to feel a little better."

He didn't look as if he entirely believed her, but nodded anyway. Turning away, he began to shuffle through some folders on the side of his desk. "Well. Since that's your writing hand, why don't you help me out by making photocopies of these for me for now?" Clark held out a folder.

Trish took it with a little smile, "Thanks. I'll be back in few." She could feel his concerned gaze on her back at first, but by the time she'd reached the copy machine he had returned to his typing.

A short time later, she returned to their work area, the new copies neatly paper clipped together on top of the folder. "Hand any better?" Clark immediately inquired, his eyes on her hand. "Your knuckles are swollen."

"Yeah, but only just a little," she conceded as she took her seat. When she saw his crestfallen expression, she said reassuringly, "Don't feel guilty, Clark. It wasn't your fault. I just need to learn how to throw my punches a little better. Really, it hardly hurts at all."

Clark nodded and tilted his head to the side as if he heard something. He swiveled his chair to look to his right and eyed her backpack, which hung on the coat rack. "Your backpack is vibrating," he informed her with a slight smile.

Trish blinked. "My what is what? Oh! My cell phone." She jumped to her feet and hurriedly opened it to retrieve her phone, which lifted to her ear. "Hello?... Hi mom... Yep, at six... sure, that sounds great... Um... I don't know actually..." She glanced at Clark, who raised his eyebrow with curiosity. "... well yes, but... Ok, fine, fine I'll ask..." Covering the phone's mouthpiece, she said in an embarrassed tone, "My mom and dad want to know if you'd like to come out to eat with us tonight. We were going to the Chinese food place that's just down the street."

He hesitated and gave her a crooked smile. "Sure, that'd be swell! As long as nothing comes up between now and then of course."

Trying not to look overly pleased, Trish nodded and said into the phone, "He said sure... " Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Love you too. Bye." The phone's display went dark, and she tossed it back into the backpack before reclaiming her chair. "So now what do I get to do?" She absently rubbed her injured hand.

"Well, actually, Pauly needed some copies made too..." He pointed to a massive pile of paperwork that had appeared on his desk while she was at the copier.

"Swell," Trish muttered, hauling herself to her feet and getting to work.

* * *

Kitty Kowalski had never been one of those types of people that dwelled on everything going wrong, but she lived in a near state of terror for the first couple of days after she and Lex Luthor escaped the tiny island. And truthfully she had good reason to be afraid.

The bald man had been infuriated when she'd opened the black velvet satchel and dumped the crystals out of the helicopter when they'd barely escaped from New Krypton before it was launched into space by Superman. She didn't even want to think of what would have happened if Lex had discovered she was keeping one of the shards hidden from him. It had taken every ounce of her skills at perpetuating the long con not to give it away. She was very attached to that sleek creme coat anyway, so he had ignored her when she insisted on keeping it on all the time. Every time she felt the urge to look at or touch the crystal, instead she clutched Pommy a little closer and squeezed him a little tighter. The poor Pomeranian was starting to regard her with that same wariness he used when Lex was near.

Getting off the island had been surprisingly easy, once nightfall came. Lex shot the flare into the air, and a couple of hours later a small catamaran came within view. It was captained by a vigorous looking man in his sixties. R&R, Kitty had thought upon meeting him-rich and retired. Luckily for them, he had been unable to get his radio working again after the massive blackout caused by the formation of New Krypton. Lex was at his most charming as he chatted with the man, while Kitty stayed in the background and smiled winningly.

The old man had dropped them off at a dock in Virginia Beach after Lex had assured him that they would most certainly be stopping by the Coast Guard office straight away to report their mishap. Of course they hadn't.

Lex had her buy a hooded raincoat from one of small stores near the docks to conceal his prominent dome, and then they'd caught a cab to one of the safehouses on the outskirts of Metropolis he'd established immediately after inheriting the Vanderworth fortune. After that, Lex was too busy to pay attention to Kitty as he arranged for access to his money via offshore accounts, called his lawyers to deal with the news regarding his involvement with the creation of New Krypton and potential kidnapping charges, and connected with 'friends' in the criminal underworld. He spent an inordinate amount of time browsing the internet, smoking Cuban cigars as he read articles on molecular genetics and genetic manipulation.

Less than twelve hours after they'd reached the safehouse, Kitty had answered a knock at the door and barely managed to stop herself from recoiling at the sight of the five thugs standing there. More of Lex's creepy friends from prison, no doubt. They may have had different appearances, but like the previous four, they all had the same cruelty, greed and utter devotion to the megalomaniacal visions of Lex Luthor.

Meanwhile, Kitty spent most of her time watching television with Pommy safely settled onto her lap and wracked her brain trying to think of a way to return the crystal to its rightful owner without being discovered by Lex. In the end, the best solution she could come up with was also the simplest.

"Lex, sweetie," Kitty simpered, holding the little dog against her side. "I think I saw a flea on Pommy, and he really needs a bath. I'm going to take him to one of those dog pet palaces," she announced.

Lex was on the phone, and barely spared a glance for her. He did nod to let her know he'd heard her as he leaned forward in his expensive chair and impatiently said, "I don't care how much it is, I want it and you are going make them an offer they can't refuse. Do I make myself clear? Good. Call me back later today after they've accepted. We're wasting enough time with this as it is."

A short time later, Pommy was at an exclusive dog boutique and Kitty was down the street, heading into the MailPax store. She bought a thickly padded envelope, surreptitiously slipped the crystal into it, and addressed it to Lois Lane. The enclosed note was brief and to the point. "Would you please see that this is returned to its rightful owner?" After making sure the counter woman put a 'Fragile - Handle With Care' stamp on the envelope, Kitty paid for the shipping and then went back to the pet salon.

During the cab ride back to the safehouse, Kitty cooed over Pommy's clean and fluffy coat as it tickled the side of her face. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that it was done. Lex was smoking another cigar as he watched the thugs load up belongings into the black Ford Expedition when her cab pulled up. As she paid the cabbie and turned to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes, he announced with a broad smile, "We're heading to my new office."

"So, Dr. Avaira, what do you think of my laboratory?" Lex Luthor asked a few hours later as they walked up the brightly lit hall towards his office, Kitty following a few feet behind, the dog still clutched in her hands. As they entered, the bald man walked around the edge of his massive desk and sat down, watching as the slim man with the silvery grey hair opposite him took a seat as well.

"Mr. Luthor, I must say," genetic engineer Dr. Elias Avaira responded, "I had no idea that Genetixx Laboratories had such advanced equipment. Everything I've seen until today had given me the impression that Genetixx was-not to be insulting-not quite up to par when it came to genuine research and development."

Kitty closed the door, moving around to stand at his side as Lex reclined in the chair and looked the doctor. "Well, I've made a few minor changes since I took over, and spared no expenses doing it," he admitted smugly. "What's the point of even working in genetics if you don't have the proper equipment to do what needs to be done?"

"Though I have to confess," Dr. Avaira started, "I'm a little puzzled as to the modifications you are making to some of the clinical trial rooms. What need is there for lead-lined walls and sound proofing in a place like this, may I ask?"

He swiveled the chair around to look at Kitty, a slight smirk on his face that she returned, eyebrows arching upward. "Let's just say I like to be prepared for the inevitable." Turning to face the geneticist again, Lex opened a small wooden box on the side of his desk and pulled out a cigar. After cutting off one end, he put the stogie into his mouth.

An expression of mild disgust appeared on Avaira's face as Lex lit up the cigar with a silvery lighter. "Mr. Luthor, do you mind?" he haughtily demanded. "There must be incredibly important work going on here, and with all due respect, I find smoking to be a vile habit that..."

His voice trailed off as he saw the bald man's expression. Moments ago it had been warm and amiable. Now dark hazel eyes glittered with anger as Lex took a slow drag off the cigar, and blew a cloud of smoke across the desk toward the doctor. "Dr. Avaira," his smile didn't reach his eyes this time as he spoke, "You've had quite a career, haven't you?" He picked up a piece of paper from a folder in front of him and leisurely read it. "Graduated with honors from John Hopkins University. Performed ground breaking work on gene therapy. Vastly increased the efficacy of gene splicing in plants and mammals. Increased the strength of mice by a degree of five, and more than doubled the average running speed of rats? Helped make both more resistant to serious injury by altering the skeletal system... I have to say I'm quite impressed."

The doctor had been looking uncertain, but now he flushed with pleasure at the praise, clearing his throat. "Well I've been fortunate enough to have helped make such contributions to the medical field," he said with feigned modesty.

Lex replaced the paper in the folder and flipped it closed, taking another puff from his cigar. He leaned forward as he exhaled the smoke, an elbow resting on the desk. "Yes you have. Things were going great for you right up until that little expose on illegal genetic manipulation on human subjects, weren't they?"

The flush of pride fled his skin, making Dr. Avaira's complexion pale and sallow. "I..." he stammered, "I can assure you, Mr. Luthor, that the appropriate consent forms were signed..."

"Oh they were signed," Lex speared the genetic's eyes with his own. "Only you didn't give them the injections you said you were going to, did you? How many people died as a result? Was it four? Kitty?"

The woman's slim shoulder lifted in a shrug, and as she opened her mouth to respond, Luthor interrupted, "No, it was five. I'm sure of it, I remember reading that the fifth took the longest to die. Quite painfully, as I recall. That was quite the story the Daily Planet put out when they broke that expose."

Avaira sputtered, "I don't know which one of the research assistants that bitch Lois Lane go to talk about the confidential experiments taking place, but if the DNA sources had been more compatible, none of that would ever have happened. "

Lex sat up straight in his chair, putting one hand to his chest as if deeply offended. "Dr. Avaira, I'll have you know that Lois Lane is the author of my most favorite article ever," he chided the geneticist.

Dr. Avaira was sulky when he apologized, "I'm sorry, it's just... it's been almost three years and I still have not been able to find a position that puts my vast talents to good use."

Pushing himself to his feet, Lex turned and looked out the window as he smoked his cigar. A quiet anger simmered in his voice as he spoke, "I know all about what it's like to be kept from achieving your dreams and goals." At his side, Kitty shifted from one foot to the other, the Pomeranian in her arms wiggling for a moment before resettling. Suddenly he whipped around, "How would you like to come work for me on a new project, Dr. Avaira. A very special project that will continue the kind of experiments you'd been working on before? Groundbreaking work. Great pay." A smirk appeared on his face, "Good benefits."

The genetic engineer blinked at the unexpected turnaround the conversation had taken and stuttered, "I would love to be working in a real laboratory environment again. But the DNA extraction, the test subjects..."

Lex smoothly interjected, "Dr. Avaira, I can assure you that only Superman himself could provide better DNA than what Genetixx will be supplying you with. And you will have human volunteers to help you see your work through to completion. You could start today. Immediately, in fact. Just begin getting everything ready for the DNA modification and we will do the rest." He held the cigar in his mouth as he stretched his hand out, one eyebrow raised.

Dr. Avaira seemed to be in a daze. He hesitated, then nodded eagerly, reaching out to give Lex's hand an enthusiastic shake. "I'll get my notes and begin right away. Thank you, Mr. Luthor."

"No, Dr. Avaira," Lex stated in a low tone, "Thank you."

Kitty Kowalski smiled supportively as they shook hands to seal the deal. In her arms, the Pomeranian whimpered, for once not because she was squeezing him too hard, but because he alone of those in the room could detect the burgeoning sense of dread that the woman was experiencing. She closed her eyes and rested her face against his soft fur again. It comforted them both. For now.


	10. Peace and Quiet

A/N This chapter would not have been possible (or as realistic) without the help of two very special people, Tanya and Elizabeth, and I never would have know about either of them if I hadn't been introduced to them by Cathy :) This chapter is dedicated to you guys.

Also, I'm sorry this chapter took me 4 days to get up, most chapters only take me 2-3 days but I wanted to make sure I got every aspect of Trish's relationship with her parents right. The devil is in the details!

* * *

Chapter 9: Peace and Quiet

Trish had just about given up on Clark making it back to the Daily Planet in time to leave for dinner when she spotted his familiar tall form trying to escape the elevator. He looked like a fish trying to swim upstream, awkwardly holding his elbows in close to his sides as he made his way into the lobby through all the people trying to escape the office for their Saturday night.

Hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder, the teen walked to meet him halfway. She held out his grey overcoat and griped good naturedly, "I thought you were gonna chicken out on me. I promise you, my parents really aren't that bad."

Clark hastened to assure her, "I wasn't going to chicken out. I had to check a couple of leads and lost track of time. And traffic was terrible." He shrugged into his coat, glancing down at her. "How's the hand?"

Groaning, Trish asked, "Are you still beating yourself up over that? It's exactly the same as it was the last four times you asked, see?" She held it up for him to see her bruised and swollen knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Clark apologized, still looking guilty. "It's just, well it was my fault. I shouldn't have goaded you."

Trish decided the best tactic to use against that was to just ignore it. She pointed at one of the televisions, which was showing footage of a police chase. "Traffic was terrible because some guy stole a car with a kid in the back seat from a gas station and went for joyride. Superman stopped the car, but I'm sure there are a ton of fender benders all over the roads as a result."

"Was the little girl all right?" he wondered as he checked his pockets to make sure he had everything.

The blonde girl looked blank. "What little girl? Oh, you mean the kid in the car?" Trish was confused as her gaze shifted from the television monitor toward Clark and then back again. "How'd you know it was a little girl, they just said on the news they were keeping that information under wraps..." Her eyes widened as she read the news ticker at the bottom of the screen, and she muttered a mild curse, "Crap! Look at the time, we're going to be late." Turning, she jogged to the office doors, pulling them open in time to call, "Hold the elevator!" to the people who were just getting on.

Since it was Saturday night, the Chinese restaurant was crowded, though not as bad as it would have been on Friday when almost all of the business offices in the area would have just closed. Trish preceded Clark into the small waiting area, commenting, "They should be here already, we're a few minutes late. Oh, there they are," she pointed to a couple in a booth, who then waved in their direction. She paused to take a deep breath before she led him over there.

"Hi," Trish gave her parents a casual greeting as she unslung her backpack. "Clark, meet my mom, Jamie," she gestured at the blonde woman with the glasses, who politely waited for Clark to take off his coat before she shook hands with him. "And this is my dad, Daniel."

Her father's eyes were assessing as he took the reporter's hand and gave it a firm shake before releasing.

Trish continued, "Mom, Dad, this is Clark Kent."

Clark adjusted his glasses with his fingertip and said with sincerity, "Pleased to meet you both, it's a real honor."

Relived to have the introductions done with for the most part, Trish pushed her backpack into the booth and slid all the way over to make room for the reporter.

A slight smile was on Jamie Mason's face as she reseated herself across from her daughter. "We've heard so much about you, Mr. Kent." Her blue eyes slid over to Trish's, "So much in fact that I was halfway expecting you to have a big S emblazoned on your clothes."

Trish flushed with embarrassment, muttering, "Mo-omm." She rolled her eyes and busied herself with unwrapping her silverware.

A startled laugh escaped Clark. Hunching his broad shoulders, he rested his elbows on the table and confided, "Well, I find that if I wear the costume under my work clothes, I tend to draw less attention to myself when I go out to eat." His conspiratorial tone was accompanied by a wink.

Jamie laughed outright at that, resting her hand on her husband's arm affectionately. "A wise decision," she agreed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't you think, Danny?" He gave a noncommittal grunt and picked up his menu.

"So," Trish began, "How long have you guys been here? Sorry we were running a little late."

Clark interjected, "That's my fault, I confess. I had to run an errand and didn't realize it was getting so late."

"It's quite all right," Jamie responded with a smile. "We'd actually only just been seated when you two walked in." Their waitress chose that time to walk over, pulling a pencil from behind her ear as she held up a little notepad.

"Could I have my check separate, please?" Clark requested politely. The Asian woman nodded, and jotted down their drink orders before heading off to check on another table.

"So what's good here?" Trish's father asked, glancing up at Clark with a raised eyebrow.

A slight frown appeared on Clark's face as he stared at his menu. "Um, actually I haven't been here in years," he admitted.

"Oh that's right," Jamie nodded understanding as she looked at the tall reporter with curiosity. "Trish told me you've only been back in Metropolis for a few weeks now? Where all did you go?"

Their waitress returned with drinks and a little bowl of fried wontons, which she set in the middle of the table. The conversation paused as they all placed their orders.

After the woman walked off, Clark responded by pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose again. "Well, home first, and then kind of all over from there. Too many places to talk about in one sitting," he added after a moment's thought.

"Home?" Daniel Mason brushed his fingers through his sandy brown hair before taking a sip from his soda. "That's Smalltown, right? In Nebraska or something like that?"

"Smallville, Dad," Trish corrected. "Smallville, Kansas. Right, Clark?" She reached out for her glass and as she closed her hand around the glass, a pained grimace appeared on her face.

"Patricia Suzanne Mason." Her mother's gaze was as sharp as a raptor's as she stared at the girl, "What on earth did you do to your hand?"

Trish jumped with guilt at the usage of her full name and pulled her hand away from the glass to drop under the table and out of sight. Darting a quick glance at Clark to avoid her father's uncomfortably intent gaze, she answered, "I uh, hit it." She didn't want to lie to her parents, but also didn't want to admit she'd hurt it by punching her 'supervisor' either, since that might get her into trouble. After a pause, she explained, "I was goofing off and knocked it against..."

"Let me see it," Jaime interrupted, holding out a slim hand toward her daughter.

Clark watched in silence, his expression unreadable as his dark hair flopped down over the rim of his glasses.

Trish hesitated but complied, holding her hand out for inspection. The ensuing assessment her mother gave was far more painful than Clark's gentle examination earlier that day, as the back of her hand and knuckles were poked and prodded. "Wiggle your fingers," she was ordered, and did so, forcing herself not to wince this time.

"Hm, well it doesn't look like anything's broken..." Mrs. Mason finally concluded and released the girl's hand. "It'll be sore for a few days though, from the look of it."

It was with a sense of relief that Trish pulled her hand back, as she informed Clark, "Mom's a nurse in the ER at Metropolitan General Hospital. That's where Mom and Dad met, actually. I mean years ago, of course."

His curiosity piqued, Clark looked at Jamie with raised eyebrows. "Metropolitan General?" he repeated. "Really?"

"She wasn't working that night," Daniel stated, "So don't even bother asking."

Trish rolled her eyes and sighed, "Dad..." Taking note of Clark's obvious confusion, she explained, "He thinks you're going to ask her about that day Superman was brought in."

"Every reporter in Metropolis with the exception of Lois Lane has hounded every doctor, nurse, orderly, candy striper and janitor that was on duty that day for information about Superman being there, and I suspect the only reason Lane didn't was because she saw him with her own two eyes. Why would he be any different?" her father asked her with one eyebrow raised as he looked suspiciously at Clark.

Scowling at her father, Trish stated, "Because he's Clark," as if that alone was reason the tall reporter wouldn't stoop to such low levels.

Jamie Mason sighed and met Clark's befuddled blue eyes across the father-daughter glaring contest. "Yes really," she answered his earlier comment with a smile. "And you looked like you had a question."

"See?" Daniel said triumphantly. "Like I said, it was just a matter of time."

Clark nodded, "I did." He darted an uncertain glance at Trish's father. "Ah, actually I was wondering how you and Daniel met. I mean, if you're an ER nurse, was he one of your patients?"

Trish leaned back, a smug expression on her face as she looked at her father. An unspoken 'I told you so' hung in the air at the table.

Daniel grumped, "I still say he would have asked if I hadn't said anything."

The waitress appeared with a large platter than had their plates arranged on it. Trish was used to it by now, but her parents watched in disbelief as Clark unfolded his napkin, tucking it into the neck of his shirt like a bib in his peculiar way. A few moments later, they were all eating, and after the initial edge of hunger was worn down, Jamie gestured at her husband with her fork, "Danny's a firefighter and EMT here in Metropolis. That's how we met."

Straightening, Clark's eyebrows arced up with surprise, his lo mein entwined fork poised in midair for him to take a bite. A noodle dropped down and formed the top part of a question mark on his napkin. "Really? You never told me that, Trish," he said to the girl, before continuing to eat.

Trish shrugged, "You never asked." She poured a little soy sauce on her rice and stirred it up, looking up to give her father a quick grin, "Dad's a real life super hero."

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel snorted, but the edge of his mouth quirked upwards.

Clark adjusted his glasses as he regarded the married couple sitting across from him. "Is it .. hard? On you guys as a family? I mean, I admittedly don't know a lot about being either a firefighter or an EMT, but for example, are you on call all the time? Like, if it was say a birthday or anniversary or something like that?"

"That hardly ever happens," Jamie told Clark. "Thank goodness. I mean, it does happen but not all that often."

Daniel's brown eyes still had a hint of wariness in them as he met Clark's attentive gaze, but it began to fade as he perceived the tall reporter's genuine interest. "Eh, sometimes. See, I'm not a volunteer, I'm career. So I have a set schedule that I work at the station. Twenty-four hours on duty, and then forty-eight off duty. When there's a major structure fire, or the times that a hurricane has made it this far north, stuff like that, we can be called in to help even if we're not on the schedule. And if all of another stations units are out, we might get called in to help man their station in case someone has a heart attack or something like that. "

"I see," Clark said, nodding his understanding, then his blue eyes shifted to peer at Trish's mother. "So when you two met, were you injured or something? Or was it a result of your being an EMT? I guess that'd take you the hospital too."

"We met when he was on one of his regular runs," Jamie replied. "After they bring pts in..."

"Pts?" Clark interrupted, an apologetic look on his face.

Trish explained, "Pts are patients."

"Oh! I see. Sorry for cutting you off, please continue." The reporter's meal was forgotten as he rested an elbow on the table, listening intently.

"...After they bring the patients in," Jamie flashed a quick grin at Clark, "most of the EMTs or firefighters have a little time to talk to the nurses, or get some coffee."

Daniel relaxed back in his seat as he pushed his plate away. "Seriously, it seems like nearly every firefighter and EMT in Metropolis is either married to or dating a nurse, a cop, or an elementary school teacher."

Clark shook his head, "Ok, the nurse and police officer connection I can see. They'd be moving in the same circle of activity as firefighters after accidents, fires and other emergencies. But the teacher one has me stumped," he admitted with a lopsided grin, pulling his napkin out of his shirt and wiping his mouth with it.

"I say they're picking up the teachers when they take the engine to the schools during fire safety week," Trish's smile was impish.

Her father chuckled at that, "You may have something there, because I know for sure that's how at least two of the guys I know with teachers for wives met them."

Jamie joined in the laughter, "No, I think it's more because firefighters are like kids when they've got spare time. I think that's why they get involved with elementary school teachers. With all the pranks you guys pull on each other, the teachers help keep you in line," she teased Daniel.

Trish's father prudently responded, "No comment," though his face was lit with amusement.

Shifting his attention to Trish, Clark inquired with curiosity, "So how do you feel about being the daughter of a firefighter and a nurse? I mean, does it make you proud, what they do? That they help save people?"

Trish shrugged a little, massaging her injured hand. Her father slipped his arm around her mother's shoulder, and both looked at her, waiting to hear what she had to say.

She was not sure if anyone had ever asked her that question before, not in front of her parents at least. "Sometimes it's scary," she admitted quietly, staring at her hands. "I mean, because they come home and they talk about what they've seen at work. Some of the stuff is so awful I can barely stand to listen. Kids being killed by their parents, or dying in horrible car accidents or that kind of thing. That's the worst, I think, because it makes me worried about what could happen to me, or my friends. Or especially to my dad when he's on duty, since he sees a lot of the bad stuff right when it's happening."

She glanced up and met Clark's troubled gaze, sensing he wished that he'd never asked the question after her pained response. Her parents were solemn and silent as well as they regarded her from across the table.

"But even though all that is true," Trish continued, "and that I worry about those things, I am happy that my dad is a firefighter and that my mom is a nurse. It makes me feel safer that I can count on both of them to help me solve an issue, or help me when I'm hurt, or make a right choice at home when it comes to putting in a lighting system or hooking up the sprinkler. I think it's funny the little tricks firefighters learn that have nothing to do with fire when they are working. I am so proud of both of them, but especially of my dad and what he does. I think it's pretty cool that they are role models not just for me, but for kids that I go to school with and really everyone I know." She drew in a deep breath, trying not to cry, but couldn't stop tears from rolling down her face as she finished talking.

Jamie was wiping tears from her eyes, and even her father looked misty-eyed. Poor Clark didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He patted Trish awkwardly on the shoulder a few times before digging a pristine folded linen handkerchief that had probably never been used out of his jacket and offered it to Trish, who took it with a shaky laugh and dabbed her eyes.

Their waitress chose that time to appear, and the task of getting their plates cleaned off the table helped distract them all from the emotion of the previous moments.

Trish offered to return the handkerchief, but Clark shook his head and smiled. "You can keep it for now. In case you need it again." The waitress returned to drop their checks off at the table. He paused to look out the window near their table, then got to his feet in a swift and graceful movement, picking up his check. "I'm so sorry but I just remembered I left my briefcase sitting at my desk, and it's got some work I need to get done before tomorrow morning. But here, let me get the tip," he opened his wallet and put enough bills down to cover his own bill and provide an excellent tip for their waitress and then turned his attention to Trish's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Mason, it was an honor to meet you both. And thank you for, well, for doing what you do. Superman's got nothing on either of you, as far as I'm concerned." the tall reporter said with complete sincerity.

"Thank you for joining us," Jamie Mason graciously responded. "It was nice to finally meet you. Wasn't it, Danny?"

"Yep, might have to do it again sometime," Daniel replied, his demeanor far more amiable now than it had been at the beginning of the meal.

Trish smiled up at the tall man, "See you later, Clark."

"Good night," Clark wiggled his fingers in a final farewell as he tossed his coat over his arm and hurried off.

As he left the restaurant, Jamie admitted to her daughter, "He wasn't what I expected at all. I thought he'd be older. And shorter. He was surprisingly nice."

"For a reporter, she means," Daniel said as he gave his wife a sidelong glance. "I'm still halfway expecting to see a whole write up on dinner in the Lifetime section of tomorrow's paper. You just can't trust reporters."

Trish heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Whatever, Dad. I'm telling you, Clark wouldn't do anything like that. He's too... nice. Like I told you before, most of the other reporters at the Daily Planet walk all over him. I don't even think he cares. He knows, but doesn't care, I mean." She paused and asked, "Is it possible to be too helpful? Cause that's how he is."

"Mmhmm," her father nodded. "So he's a bootlicker. Figures."

"Daniel," Jamie chided her husband, and he shrugged.

The teen thought about that, and shook her head. "No, it's not bootlicking. That's when someone is all, 'Can I do this? Can I help you with that?' and trying to earn brownie points with someone else. With Clark, it's more like people come up to him and say, 'Hey can you do this for me?' and he says, 'Sure!' cause he wants to help. Even if he is in the middle of doing something else. He likes to help people out so much that I think sometimes people end up walking all over him. Does that make more sense?"

Daniel flipped through his wallet and paid for their meal, as Trish and her mother gathered their belongings. "Yes it does. It's not much better in it's own way but it's not obnoxious, at least. He seemed like an okay guy, I'll admit."

"That's pretty high praise coming from you, Dad," Trish observed with a smile.

"Yeah? So?"

* * *

A/N part 2. Almost every bit of dialogue involving what it's like to be a firefighter/EMT and the child of someone with that position was provided to me through personal interviews with Tanya (who is a firefighter/EMT) and a very well written message from her teenage daughter, Elizabeth. Thats why I took so long putting this chapter up, I wanted to get it right and be real by talking to people who really have to go through this every day. Trish's words to Clark regarding how she feels about her parents and the job they do are pretty much a direct quote of what Elizabeth said about her own relationship with her parents.

Let's hear it for the real Super Heroes of our world :)


	11. Crime and Punishment

A/N I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up. If it makes it any better, this chapter is twice as long as any previous chapter I've written to date, which is part of why it took me so long to get posted. I considered breaking it up into two chapters, but figured what the heck. But hey, there's Lois/Clark scene goodness!

On Thursday night I reread the entire story from beginning to end and suddenly realized I had a massive loose end dating back to the chapter "Odds and Ends" where Trish and Clark are in the cafeteria, and the television mentions that Lex has a $1,000,000 bounty on his head. That seemed like an awfully big loose end so I decided I'd better go ahead and tie it up, and the 2nd half of this chapter is the result of that. That darned Lex, he's so nefarious, isn't he?

In the next chapter, the fit will hit the shan. And remember, when it does, it never lands in just one place. Again, my thanks to Lachesis Benton and Cathy for help in the writing of this chapter. And more importantly, thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story. Your kind and encouraging words inspire me to new heights.

* * *

Chapter 10: Crime and Punishment

Lois Lane was having a bad day, even for a Monday.

The weekend had gone so well. Things were finally back to normal between her and Richard. She knew that Superman's return had caused a strain on their relationship, but it wasn't until after their talk on Friday night that she realized how much tension had existed between the two of them.

Most of it had been her own fault, Lois admitted to herself. It would have been impossible to ignore the return of the caped super hero even if she had not been in a relationship with Richard. She should have confronted Superman right away, instead of trying to focus her attention elsewhere and dodging Perry White's demands for a big spread on him. In her defense though, she knew she was not the first and would be far from the last woman to avoid a meeting with a former love. Of course, her situation was a little more complicated than was typical.

Saturday, she and Richard had brought Jason into the office while they worked. The boy immediately gravitated over to Clark's desk, where he spent most of the day sitting in Trish's chair and quietly playing with his new stamps until they left at around 2pm. They stopped by a video store to pick up some movies, microwave popcorn and spent the evening in as a family.

They didn't even go into work on Sunday, instead opting to go to the newly renovated Metropolis aquarium. The weather was gorgeous, a warm early October day. She held hands with Richard as they followed an exuberant Jason from one exhibit to another. On more than one occasion, Lois had glanced up at Richard to see him looking down at the little boy with a strange expression on his face. She imagined she'd regarded Jason with an identical look of love, awe, and a hint of worry after realizing he was indeed Superman's son.

Either way, the day had been wonderful, only now Jason really wanted his very own fish tank. Nothing as simple as mere goldfish would do, not when he'd seen so many brightly colored fish in the beautifully arranged aquariums. So when they left the aquarium, they'd stopped by Barnes & Noble to pick up a couple of books on keeping fish as pets. Every child seemed to want pets at some point in their life, at least fish would be low maintenance, Richard had pointed out with an indulgent grin.

On Monday however, it looked like autumn had arrived with a vengeance overnight. The skies were dark and overcast, and the rain had that cold icy feel to it that chilled clear to the bone when it touched the skin. Richard had caught a cab to the Planet earlier that morning for a video conference with paper's Tokyo office, while she was to take Jason to school.

Lois should have known that something was up when they arrived. There were only a few cars, and not a single bus in sight. But she hurried Jason inside anyway, only to be told that it was a no student day because of a teacher workshop and didn't she get the notice? Then she and Jason had run back to the car through the rain to find that she'd locked the keys in the car with the engine running. Luckily there was a spare door key stashed in a magnetic 'Hide-a-key' box under the bumper, but it did nothing to improve her deteriorating mood.

A short time later, Lois was finally at her desk and shrugging out of her wet coat. She hung it up on the rack by her desk and bent down to help Jason out of his before affectionately tousling the boy's damp hair. "I'm sorry honey, but it looks like Daddy is still having his meeting," she said apologetically, casting a glance at her fiance's office. "Do you want to sit with me at my desk while I work?"

"Can I go show my fish books to Clark?" Jason countered, a hopeful look in his blue eyes.

Lois smiled, "Only if he's not busy with anything," as she straightened and looked over toward Clark's work area. The tall reporter was sitting at his desk, idly tapping a pencil on his desk as he stared at the computer monitor in front of him. "He doesn't look like he's working on anything important, so go ahead," she encouraged her son, and he eagerly picked up his little 'Cars' backpack and toted it over there.

As Jason approached, Clark rotated his chair around to face the little boy and gave that typical little wave of his fingers before pushing up his glasses. Lois watched the pair, noting how Clark leaned forward with his shoulders slightly hunched so that he was closer to Jason's eye level as they spoke in soft voices. A few moments later, he had the little boy settled on his lap and together they flipped through one of the aquarium books. Trish was right, he really is great with kids, Lois thought to herself with bemusement as she turned back to her desk, preparing to get some work done.

A couple of hours later, Lois threw her pen down on her desk in frustration. She could not seem to focus on any one thing long enough to be productive. In her defense, she did have a lot on her mind. The activities of the weekend had helped keep her worrisome thoughts at bay, but eventually she and Richard needed to decide the best time to tell Jason about his unusual parentage. Should Superman be included in the conversation as well? Or should he be introduced afterwards?

Her attention wandered toward Clark's desk. Trish must have been out of school as well, for she had arrived a short time ago and now Jason was showing off his new books to her. Clark didn't seem to be around at the moment. Lois grabbed her coffee mug and hauled herself to her feet, heading over to the coffee station for a refill. Her mind drifted again as she stirred the cream in.

"Hi Lois," Clark greeted cheerfully as he adjusted his glasses and brushed a long-fingered hand down his mud-brown striped tie. "How's the coffee today?"

"Hmm?" Lois blinked, coming out of her reverie as she looked up at the tall reporter. "Oh, it's okay. Gil didn't make it, if that's what you're wondering," she informed him as she blew across the hot surface of the liquid and took a sip.

Clark peered over at the heavy set man from politics with his eyebrows raised. "Gil? What's wrong with Gil's coffee?"

Lois gave him an incredulous look, "You haven't had it yet? He couldn't make a decent pot of coffee if his life depended on it. It's like drinking used motor oil or battery acid."

"Oh." He nodded, causing his dark hair to flop over the rim of his glasses. "I have had his coffee then. It was a little stronger than normal, but really to me, coffee is coffee, I mean, you know, once you add a little cream and sugar."

Lois shuddered, "If you say so. Personally I think if you can drink that sludge, you must have a cast iron stomach or something."

Clark shrugged, ducking his head a little as he admitted, "I've been told that before." Edging around her, he picked up the coffee pot and filled his mug. As he added a dollop of cream and some sugar to the brew, he commented, "So you guys are going to get an aquarium for Jason?"

A light laugh escaped Lois, "He told you, eh? Yes, we're looking into it, which is why we got the books. I figure it'll be hard to go wrong with fish. What's the chance of him being allergic to them, right?" It suddenly occurred to her that Jason had shown no signs of being allergic to anything since that fateful day on The Gertrude. She frowned thoughtfully as she observed her son. He was sitting in Clark's large chair now, coloring while Trish skimmed the aquarium books.

"Fish are interesting creatures," Clark told her. "I remember reading somewhere that they put them in doctor and dentist offices because they help relax clients and employees, and I guess that makes sense." His blue eyes studied her for a moment and followed her gaze to where the boy was, "Lois? Everything ok?"

"What? Oh, yes," Lois nodded and raised the mug to her lips. "I was just thinking that maybe Jason's finally getting to that age where he's starting to outgrow some of his allergies."

Clark smiled at that, noting, "That's a good thing, though. Right? I noticed he wasn't using his inhaler much."

"He hasn't used it at all since..." Lois cut herself off mid-sentence. Since he threw the piano at that thug, she'd been about to say. She pursed her lips and voiced more carefully, "He hasn't seemed to need it in a few weeks."

Lifting his own mug to take a drink, Clark hesitantly wondered, "Was it hard? I mean, learning to deal with the asthma and the allergies and such?"

Lois sighed, reflecting back, "It wasn't easy, that's for sure. Luckily, Richard was there to help, I think I'd have gone crazy otherwise. I think the worst parts were just figuring it all out. Trying out new foods was... interesting. He'd either eat them fine or swell up like a balloon." Grimacing at that memory, she glanced up and noticed Clark's troubled expression. "Hey, no need to look so bothered by it all. It's not like it was your fault, right?" she said with a smile and reached out to pat him on the forearm.

Clark's blue eyes shifted away with something approaching guilt and he confessed, "I just, I don't know. I feel like I picked a bad time to go away. I should have been here." He lowered his head and adjusted his glasses before draining the rest of his coffee mug in a few quick swallows.

"Been here to do what?" Lois asked with dry humor. "Help me change diapers? Not that I would have turned you down, but..." Anything else she was going to add fell by the wayside as she glanced up at Clark and saw his expression. "Clark?" His face could have been etched from stone as he looked beyond her toward the television monitor closest to her desk. She followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open. The noise of the newsroom fell off to near silence while everyone turned to watch.

Pictures of both Lex Luthor and Kitty were on the large screen. "...breaking news just in. We've just been informed that Lex Luthor and his alleged accomplice, Katherine 'Kitty' Kowalski have just turned themselves into the Metropolis Police department. Sources say that Luthor, who was accompanied by his lawyers, arrived at the station a few minutes ago." The pretty dark haired reporter touched her ear as if receiving more information. "We're told that he will be making a public statement to the press shortly. Lex Luthor, as many of you are aware, has been on the FBI's most wanted list since he was linked to the creation of New Krypton by Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane." Lois's image flashed behind the woman, and then a picture of Superman. "In addition, rumors have circulated that Luthor was behind the brutal and almost deadly attack on the Man of Steel himself, Superman. A cumulative reward of $1,000,000 had been offered for information leading to his arrest and conviction. We will give you more information as it becomes available to us."

As the bulletin ended, the newsroom erupted with noise and phones suddenly ringing off the hook. The crack of something breaking drew Lois' attention from the monitor. She blinked and turned to see that Clark was already bending down to begin pick up the broken pieces of his mug. Her grip on her own mug was slack with shock, it was no wonder the poor guy had dropped his. Setting it down on the coffee station counter, she bent to help him pick up a couple of the larger shards, muttering, "I can't believe he turned himself in, can you? He's got to be up to something."

Clark said nothing as he gathered pieces of his mug and tossed them into the trash. Lois darted a quick look at him and froze when his blue eyes met hers for a fraction of a second. They blazed brilliant blue with a fury she'd never seen before on the mild mannered reporter's face before. He ducked his head again in a quick motion, glasses and dark hair dropping down to obscure his expression.

"Kent! Lois! Olsen!" Perry White's voice shouted over the racket, "In my office now." Lois hurriedly straightened back up, staring down at Clark's dark head for a moment. "Now means NOW!" Lois turned and hurriedly detoured by her desk to exchange her coffee mug for her notepad before she headed into the Chief's office. Clark followed a couple of steps behind and nearly shut the glass door on Jimmy before the young man squeezed through the opening.

"Sorry," Clark muttered apologetically and Jimmy flashed a quick grin of forgiveness before hurrying to one of the large leather chairs and taking a seat.

Perry's face was unusually grim as he stood behind his desk with his hands on his hips as he spoke. "Lois, the phones have been ringing nonstop since that bulletin hit the airwaves. Everyone wants a statement from you regarding Lex Luthor turning himself in, especially since you were one of the last people to see him before he vanished."

"Chief, I..." Lois started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

"I know you're the best, Lois, but for right now I need you to stay here at the office and lay low until he finishes his press conference," Perry continued as though Lois hadn't said anything. "We'll decide what to do from there once we hear what he has to say. Kent."

Clark started, looking at the Chief with his eyebrows arched upward with a tinge of worry. "Yes?"

"I want you to go down and cover this noon press conference. I want to know everything, do I make myself clear?" Perry demanded, though he didn't really expect an answer. Clark gave a quick nod of understanding and avoided meeting Lois' glance. "And take Jimmy with you for pictures." The three just stood there staring at the Chief, until he demanded, "Well? What are you waiting for, get going!"

As they made their way out of Perry's office, Jimmy said, "Let me go get my camera gear," to Clark and hurried down the aisle toward his desk, almost bouncing with excitement.

"Lois," Clark sounded worried and he turned to face her, "Look, I'm sorry that the Chief doesn't want you there, but..."

"But what?" Lois asked, one eyebrow raised. "You don't want this to damage 'our relationship'? Save it, Clark," she said bitterly, and then felt like she'd kicked a puppy when she saw his stricken expression at her words. Softening her tone, she went on, "You better do a good job with this though. And be careful. There's no telling what Lex has up his sleeve now." Trish and Jason appeared behind the tall reporter, and she mustered a smile for her son and the teenager at his side. "Hey honey. Did you finish showing Trish your books? Good morning, Trish."

"Morning, Mrs. Lane," Trish returned with a smile, though her attention was on Clark. "Are you going to the police station to cover Lex Luthor's press conference? And if you are, can I come?" she immediately asked, her brown eyes hopeful.

Clark was caught off guard by the question, and stammered, "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea, Trish. Lex Luthor is a convicted criminal, and..."

"Please," the girl tried to keep a pleading note out of her voice as she spoke. "Come on, the conference is going to be right at the police station. What's he going to do right there in front of all those cameras and the cops too? I promise to stay right beside you the whole time, you'll hardly even notice I'm there."

"Let her go along, Clark," Lois suggested. "The experience will be good for her."

Trish gave her a grateful smile as Clark relented, "Fine, fine. Get what you need, we'll be leaving in a few minutes." Beaming, the teenager ran to her work area.

Lois was in the process of heading back to her own desk with Jason in tow when the little boy broke his hand free of hers. He ran back to Clark and tugged insistently on the man's jacket. Clark bent down, and Jason tiptoed to whisper something into his ears for a few minutes before giving him a quick hug. As the child returned to her side, Lois raised an eyebrow and asked him. "What was all that about?"

Jason's blue eyes were solemn as he met Lois'. "I was telling him to be really careful of the bald man. He's mean. I think he hates Superman," the little boy sadly confided.

"He is mean," Lois had to agree. "It took you a long time to tell Clark just that little bit though, didn't it?"

Jason shrugged and looked away evasively, unwilling to tell her what else he'd said.

Laughing, Lois ruffled his hair, "Okay, okay, I'll let you two have your secrets for now." She glanced back over her shoulder at Clark. He was just standing there staring at Jason, his expression unreadable.

Jimmy came up behind him, saying, "Clark? Trish and I are ready to go when you are. I found her a press badge, just to be on the safe side."

"What? Oh, yeah." Clark gave a slight shake of his head, "Let me grab my badge, recorder and notebook, and then we can go."

The rain had finally stopped, but the air was still very damp and cold. It wasn't much better in the cab Clark, Jimmy and Trish rode in over to the police station, to be honest.

Jimmy shivered and rubbed his hands together to warm them up, asking the cabbie, "Hey man, can you turn up the heater? It's like a meat locker back here."

"Look, bub, I got the heater up all the way," the gray-haired man retorted over his shoulder. "It just takes a while to heat up."

Trish was actually pretty comfortable, but then she was sandwiched between Clark and Jimmy in the back seat. The side of her that touched Clark in particular was very warm, almost as though the man was emanating heat. She glanced up at him, studying his strong profile for a moment. He really is cute, she thought to herself, even with the geek glasses and the bad haircut. And his eyes were such an intense shade of blue.

Clark turned his head and caught her staring at him. She flushed, averting her gaze away for a moment before apologizing, "Sorry, was just thinking."

He smiled nervously and turned his head away to look out the window on his side of the car.

Traffic was getting a lot worse as they got closer the station. The cab had slowed almost to a crawl amid all the other cars. The cabbie turned to ask over his shoulder, "You want I should try to get you in a little closer? Or you want to get out here?"

In response, Clark opened the door, "We'll just get out here, thanks. We're only a couple of blocks away." Trish and Jimmy both hopped out of the car after him, and waited while the tall reporter paid the driver.

Jimmy glanced at his watch and frowned, "We'd better hurry, cause the conference is going to begin in about twenty minutes." So they started walking.

The crowd gathered in front of the Metropolis Police Station and City Hall was a large one. There were television cameras, reporters, and journalists, not to mention the thong of Superman fans that were being kept behind a barricade by anxious looking police officers. They flashed their press badges so they were allowed beyond the barricade into the area designated for the press.

"Follow me, and stay close," Clark ordered quietly, and turned to begin making his way through the throng of people. Jimmy and Trish looked at each other for a brief moment and then hurried after him. With bemusement, the teenager watched as Clark used both his height and bulk to his advantage for the first time she'd ever witnessed. He edged his way through the crowd with that unusual combination of grace and agility she'd seen him display on occasion. When people glared at him in irritation, he used his engaging smile and most sincere apology to soothe the ruffled feathers of those he had nudged out of his path.

"He's good," Jimmy muttered with admiration into her ear from behind, and she couldn't help but nod agreement. They had no trouble at all following in his wake so long as they stuck to him like glue.

In no time at all, they were in the front just a few feet away from the microphones that had been set up there. They arrived just in the nick of time. Lex Luthor, Kitty Kowalski, some suited men that had to be lawyers and some police officers walked out the doors to the police station. Jimmy promptly brought up his camera and began snapping pictures.

Reporters around them began shouting questions, all of which went ignored. The noise and the restless crowd was making Trish feel claustrophobic for the first time in her life, and she began to wonder if coming had been such a good idea after all. Instinctively she edged even closer to Clark for protection, and then relaxed as he gave her a brief but reassuring smile before he turned his attention forward again.

Lex Luthor was dressed in a hand-tailored slate gray suit with a thick white overcoat. Trish had thought the man was bald, but if he was, he was wearing a wig. His hair was a light brown shade, neatly combed to the side. Kitty Kowalski's dress was more suited to an evening on the town than a press conference. She was wearing a jaunty broad brimmed hat, and held a red Pomeranian under her arm which she kept cuddling up to her face.

Stepping forward, Lex held his hand up in a bid for silence from the crowd. The raucous noise eventually died down enough for him to talk. "Good afternoon. I am here today to address the baseless accusations and allegations made against myself and Ms. Katherine Kowalski."

As he spoke, Trish darted a quick glance up at Clark, who's face was so grim it may as well have been chiseled from stone. He hates Lex Luthor with a passion, the girl suddenly realized and blinked. It was hard to imagine Clark Kent not liking anyone, but if the stories about Luthor and his criminal activities were true, he was definitely someone who was worth being hated.

"First off," Lex continued, "the rumors of my association with the creation of the land mass now known as New Krypton are true." That caused the crowd to erupt with questions, and he patiently waited for the noise to lessen so he could speak again. "However the stories regarding this involvement have been blown wildly out of proportion. I had only the best of intentions when I initiated the sequence of events that led to the formation of New Krypton."

A slight smile curved his lips, "As my father once said to me, 'You can print money, manufacture diamonds, and people are a dime a dozen, but they will always need land. It's the one thing we are not creating any more of.' I believed that it would be possible to help alleviate some of the world population problems by creating a new continent in the Atlantic Ocean in international waters. My lawyers have assured me that there is nothing in the United States Constitution or any international treaties that make it illegal to create a new land mass, and thus I have not broken any laws."

Lex touched his chest with an open hand, his expression intent and sincere. "Naturally I had no idea that the creation of this new continent would cause such widespread damage and chaos, and for that I wholeheartedly apologize."

Shifting from one foot to the other, Luthor went on, "Second. I consider the kidnapping accusations leveled against me by Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane, who I happen to be a big fan of, a slanderous attack on my personal character. Ms. Lane neglected to mention that she was trespassing when she and her son boarded my luxury yacht, _The Gertrude_. I had no idea she was even on the vessel when we left the dock." A casual laugh escaped him and he admitted, "In fact, I had just gotten out of the shower when I encountered her trespassing in one of the ship's cabins. I can't express to you how disturbed I was by the fact that not only was a woman of Ms. Lane's stature willing stoop to such criminal techniques, but that she had the gall to drag her son along on such misadventures." He shook his head as though he was dismayed and disappointed by Lois Lane's actions.

"It is true that she asked myself and my crew to return her to shore immediately, but after a brief conference with my companions, we decided that it was best to go ahead with the experiment in creating our new land mass instead of risking her leaking the details of our endeavor to the general public before we were ready. I left Ms. Lane and her son in the company of a close personal friend of mine, Bruce Gravin, below decks while we initiated the experiment. Afterwards, I sent two crew members down to tell Ms. Lane that we'd be returning her and her son to shore. I was shocked and appalled when they returned to inform me that Bruce had somehow been killed while in the presence of Ms. Lane and her son. For the protection of my crew and myself, out of fear for our own safety, we put them in the only room on _The Gertrude_ that could be locked."

"It was at this time that we began to realize the disastrous effects New Krypton's formation were having on the ocean floor. We decided to take the ship's helicopter to examine the island from the sky and chose to leave Ms. Lane and her son on the Gertrude where they would surely be safer. After a quick survey of the exposed land mass, we landed the helicopter in what appeared to be a stable area. A short time later, it felt as though a great earthquake struck, and we ran for our lives. Katherine Kowalski," here Lex paused, gesturing to the dark haired woman slightly behind him, "and myself made it to the helicopter. My three crewmen, William Stanford, John Riley and Sebastian Grant were not so fortunate. They were crushed and killed instantly the collapse of a rock face. Ms. Kowalski and I took to the air in the helicopter and quickly realized that the earthquake was caused not by a natural occurrence, but because Superman had taken it upon himself to separate New Krypton from the ocean bedrock it had bonded with and hurl it into space."

Lex Luthor took a deep breath. "Finally, I'd like to address the claims that have been made linking me to a physical attack on Superman. Where is the evidence that proves I am the one who attacked him? Where is the weapon? Who witnessed this attack? Did any of you? Did Ms. Lane or her son? In fact, where is the victim?" He gestured up in the sky, "Superman, if he wishes to validate these claims of assault and battery, is welcome to come forward at any time and present physical proof that I was the cause of these injuries. My lawyers assure me that they would be more than happy to find some physicians that would be willing to examine him in detail to determine the extent of damage, if any because after all he IS Superman, from this so-called attack."

Straightening his shoulders, Lex finished, "I intend to cooperate fully with the Metropolis Police Department, the FBI and other agencies in clearing my good name and the name of my companion, Katherine Kowalski. Thank you."

Mayhem ensued, as reporters shouted one question after another at Lex, Kitty, the lawyers and the police as they all made their way back up the steps into the station. Trish yelped as the crowd pressed forward, nearly knocking her over. Even Jimmy looked overwhelmed and protectively held his camera close to his chest. Clark's hand rested on the girl's shoulder and he guided first her and then the young photographer to stand in front of him, using his bulk to stand as an immobile wall of resistance against the overeager members of the press while they surged around the three.

A few minutes later, things had calmed down enough for them to make their way out of the crowd. A few of the more observant reporters saw their Daily Planet press tags and began to hound them, shoving microphones and recorders under their noses. They asked the same questions over and over, wanting to know about Lois and whether or not Lex's accusations of her trespassing and involvement in Bruce Gravin's death were true or false. Clark just hurried her and Jimmy away from the station as fast as they could walk, doing his best to keep Trish in particular out of the way of both cameras and microphones by strategically keeping himself between the teen and the reporters. After a couple of blocks of silence from the three, the finally gave up.

"Now I see why some reporters are called newshounds, " Trish commented when they'd gone a few blocks away and were no longer being followed. Wide-eyed, she peeked around Clark's side to watch the most tenacious of their pursuers head back toward the police department.

Clark's large hand squeezed her shoulder, silently directing the girl to focus on where they were headed. "Don't look back," he said, his voice quiet yet authoritative. "You don't want to give them the idea that you're giving in and willing to comment now."

"Oh, sorry," Trish blinked and faced forward again. That possibility hadn't occurred to her.

"Wonder how long it'll take us to find a cab back to the Daily Planet," Jimmy wondered aloud as he checked his camera. "I got some good pictures, I think."

"Are all press conferences like that?" the blonde teen asked after a moment's thought, glancing up at Clark. "Because if they are, maybe I'm getting in the wrong line of work. I don't think I've ever been that scared. Or weirded out. Something like that," she paused, trying to think of the right word. "It was just overwhelming, all the people and the shouting and pushing and all that."

Clark's expression softened a little as his blue eyes met hers, and he shook his head, "No, most press conferences are more organized than that. I'm sorry about that, I didn't realize it would be so chaotic. It only got bad at the end because Lex Luthor didn't allow them to ask any questions."

A yellow cab was coming down the road toward them, and Jimmy ran forward, waving his arm to flag it down. "Hey! Taxi!" he yelled. The cab slowed down and pulled over to the curb.

Trish walked toward the cab, commenting, "Did you notice that nothing that he said in that entire conference can be verified? I mean, New Krypton is in outer space. It's not like anyone can go check and see if his three companions really did die like he said. Or check and see how that guy on _The Gertrude_ died either. And for some reason, I don't think that Superman is going to appear in front of Lex's doctors and say, 'Here's my scar, there's your proof.' He asks for evidence that proves he is guilty, but it's just as impossible for him to provide evidence that proves his own innocence. It's his word against ours."

Clark's nod was grim and he opened the cab door for Trish to get in while Jimmy ran around to the other side of the cab, "That was the whole idea of his conference, I'm sure. The problem is that the burden of proof is on the prosecution and the accusers. All he has to do to get off scot free is to create doubt. Which he did an excellent job of."

Jimmy sat down with a sigh as he pulled the door closed after him, "That's the truth. The next few days are going to be real-l-ly interesting at the Planet. I bet the phones are going to be ringing off the hook non-stop for at least a week."

Grimacing, Trish said, "I'm just glad I don't have to answer them."


	12. Question and Answer

A/N Ok, I'm very very sorry that this has taken so many days to get posted. My dog got horribly ill on Wednesday and spent two nights at the vet's office. He is fine now but my attention was definitely not on writing during that time. Good news though! Superman/Jason goodness in this chapter, and Lex plotting badness! Next chapter? All hell breaks loose. Consider yourself warned!

Special thanks go out again to Cathy and Lachesis Benton for their invaluable input. Jan was also of immense help and got a luxury hotel named after him, the lucky guy.

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Chapter 11: Question and Answer

It was another miserable, cold, and rainy October day. Ironically, it was the kind of weather that Superman enjoyed for the simple reason that no one, from law abiding citizens to hardened criminals, wanted to spend any more time in the chilling precipitation than they absolutely had to. He drifted in the sky above the dark rain clouds, reveling in what felt like his first break as either Clark or Superman since Lex Luthor's press conference from last week.

Jimmy Olsen had it right on the money when he said that life at the Daily Planet was going to be interesting for a few days. Only 'insane' would have been a more accurate description. The phones rang nonstop for two days straight. Everyone wanted to know what Lois Lane's rebuttal was to Lex's recollection of the events of that fateful September day. Editor-in-Chief Perry White took the attacks on his best reporter quite personally, and everyone at the Planet was careful about what they said in his presence.

On Wednesday, the morning edition reprinted Lois' account of that day, from the article that had run the morning after New Krypton had been heaved into space. Beside it was a new article, one that retraced the steps she had taken to track down the cause of the first blackout that had caused power grids on the east coast to go offline. A map diagramed with concentric circles clearly showed that blackout's far-reaching effects had spread outward from a single location, the Vanderworth Estate at 6 Springwood Drive. Lois had no reason to believe either she or her son would be in danger from visiting the property to ask the owners a few simple questions about their experiences during the power outage. The mansion had appeared deserted, but they'd heard classical music coming from the luxury yacht docked near, so she'd made the decision to board the ship in search of someone to talk to. No sooner had they gotten aboard than the engine roared to life, and the rest, as they say, is history.

As for Lex's claims that he had no idea how much damage New Krypton's creation would cause, Jimmy had taken a spectacular photograph of the huge crystalline structure that had been found in the shattered basement of the Vanderworth Estate, jutting up through the ceiling. It was the centerpiece for the front cover, and on the inside of the edition were more pictures that showed the devastation the train set had suffered. Scores of broken and crushed miniature figurines scattered all over the place clearly showed the 'human toll' the little city had taken as a result of Lex's creation. The fact that much of the obliterated train city had been modeled after Metropolis demonstrated Lex was not only aware of the damage his large scale experiment would cause, he had intended it.

Attention shifted from Lois back to Lex Luthor, and unsurprisingly, he had removed himself from the limelight for the time being. Things had returned to normal at the Planet, normal enough that Perry felt comfortable enough to assign Lois and Richard to covering a charity ball at the Hinnen Luxury Hotel on Saturday night. Trish had been happy to accept their request to babysit Jason again.

Which is why Clark found himself flying over the house at 312 Riverside Drive. While he realized the chances of them needing his help as Superman were almost nil, he could not resist the urge to check in on the two that had become such an integral part of his life. Jason was his son, and of course that made him special. But Trish had become like the younger sibling he never had growing up. She was bright, inquisitive, and had a gift for cutting through the bull and seeing to the heart of the matter. Jason adored her, and the teen felt similarly bout the little boy.

Superman drifted down through the nimbostratus clouds to hover above the sea plane as he had done the previous time. It was still raining in steady sheets. The droplets beaded up the surface of his costume and immediately sloughed off, unable to penetrate the indestructible fabric. He found it ironic that bullets could bounce off his body but rain was more of annoyance simply because it got his hair wet. Studying the house for a moment, he concentrated to filter out the myriad of other sounds as he 'tuned in' to listen, and focused his vision to see through the walls. Trish sat on the edge of Jason's bed, just finishing up a bedtime story. "... so the little frog jumped back into the pond, and the blue jay waved and said, 'So long!'. The end." She shut the book with a smile.

Jason grinned up at Trish, pulling his covers up under his arms, "I like that story, it's one of my favorites."

The girl laughed and reached to tousle his shaggy brown hair, "It was pretty good. But that's the last story, okay? I've read you three now, which is two more than I planned on reading."

The boy's heartfelt, "Awwww..." caused Clark to smile. Trish collected the books and returned them to the bookshelf. As she returned to his side, Jason looked at the window hopefully and back up at her.

"Jason," Trish gave a slight shake of her head, "I don't think he's out there today. I know you really wanted to talk to him, but we looked what, three times? It's hard enough to see into the sky without all the rain, but with the clouds and everything else... He may be out helping people, you know? I bet he's still listening though," she added with an encouraging smile.

Clark blinked at that. Jason wanted to talk to him?

Sighing with disappointment, Jason nodded. "I know," he said sadly. "I just... really wanted to talk to him, I have something important I want to ask him."

Trish raised an eyebrow, "So you said. Are you ever going to tell me what it is you want to ask him yet?" she inquired as she leaned over the bed, tucking him in.

Jason bit his lip as he thought about it. Finally he shook his head as his blue eyes looked up to meet Trish's. "I can't. It's a secret. I'm sorry," he apologized, then asked with worry, "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Laughing, Trish kissed him on the forehead. "Of course not, I just am curious to know what you'd want to ask that you think only Superman will have an answer for, is all. Reporters are curious people, you know. Maybe I will try to think of a good question to ask him too, what do you think of that plan?"

Nodding his approval, Jason responded, "I think that's a good idea." He regarded her seriously, "But you have to think really hard what you want to ask. Something that you wouldn't ask anyone else in the whole wide world. Not Mommy or Daddy or Uncle Perry or your Mom or Dad, or Jimmy or even the Pred-i-sent of the whole United States."

Trish chuckled, correcting his pronunciation, "It's pronounced President. And you forgot Clark. I'm not allowed to ask him the question either, am I? I can't believe you left him off your list," she poked the child's side in a tickle.

Jason gave her an odd look. "I didn't leave him off the list. You can ask him too, if you want." He yawned, knuckling his eyes.

Nonplussed, Trish straightened back up, "But you said... " As the boy yawned though, she reached out and turned off the light. "Never mind. You're tired. Night Jase. Sleep tight, and don't let the bedbugs bite."

"Night Trish," the boy replied, craning his neck to watch as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Superman's eyes followed Trish as she went down stairs and sat down on the couch in front of the television. As she picked up the remote and started channel surfing, he drew closer to the house until he hovered outside Jason's window. He paused for a long moment, and then lifted his hand to rap quietly on the window frame.

Jason sat upright in his bed, wide-eyed and then threw back his covers to climb out of the bed. Reaching the window, he turned the knob to unlock it and pulled it open. "You were listening," he said in a loud whisper with a smile on his face as he gazed up at Superman.

Clark couldn't stop the grin he knew had appeared on his face at his son's obvious pleasure in seeing him. "I was," he agreed, floating in out of the rain through the open window and landing. He felt almost nervous for some reason.

Pushing the window closed again, Jason gave him a critical look. "You're wet. Let me go get you a towel." He turned and opened the door to leave the room before Clark could respond, padding barefooted down the hallway to the bathroom.

From downstairs, Trish's voice called out, "Jason, you're supposed to be in bed..." and Clark tensed as he watched her get up off the couch.

"I had to go to the bathroom," Jason replied, turning on the bathroom light, which was true.

Trish sighed, staring up the stairs though she was unable to see Jason. "Well hurry up and get back into bed when you're finished. I thought you went already."

Jason announced, "I did, but I had to go again." A few minutes later, he was returning with a thick blue towel in his hands, "Night again, Trish." He closed the door behind him and offered Superman the towel.

The girl gave an amused shake of her head, "Night Jason," as she settled back down on the couch.

Clark accepted the towel with a smile, running it through his dark hair before wiping off the excess rain water on his skin. Water that had been on his cape and costume had already run off the fabric to the hardwood floor in front of the window for the most part. He bent down, wiping that up as well. He really could have dried himself off but did not want to decline Jason's kind gesture.

Jason watched in silence as the tall man dried off and then moved closer, reaching out to touch first the cloth on Superman's shoulder, then his cape with a sense of reverence. Eyes wide with wonder, he exclaimed, "It's dry! How is it dry?"

"Shhh," Clark lifted his finger to his lips to indicate usage of a quieter tone. Trish was still watching television, luckily. "My suit can't get wet." Kneeling in front of the boy, he wadded up the towel and rested it on his thigh as he met Jason's blue eyes with his own. "I heard you say that you had a special question for me. An important question?"

The boy averted his gaze from Clark's, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at the floor. Then Jason took a deep breath and asked, "Do you remember when I told you to be careful of the bald man. And then I said I'd take care of Mommy and keep her safe when you couldn't be around?"

Superman hesitated a moment before nodding. There was no doubt that Jason obviously had known his friend Clark Kent was Superman when he whispered into those words into his ear. He still didn't know what to make of it, or what, if anything, he should do about it.

Jason peeked up at him, "What I wanted to ask was, why I can't lift anything heavy anymore so that I can protect her if I have to? I did it the one time on the boat, but now I can't do it again, I've tried and tried. You're the strongest person I know, so I thought maybe you could help me be strong all the time." The child's expression brightened, "Then I won't get a D in gym anymore too."

Clark went utterly still at the question. He hadn't really known what to expect when he knocked on the window, but that had not been it. "The one time?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in question, though he felt pretty certain as to what the one time was.

Jason's small shoulders lifted in a shrug. Avoiding Superman's gaze, he murmured, "The time I hurt the bad man that was trying to hurt Mommy."

"She told me about what happened." It occurred to Clark that perhaps Richard and Lois had already discussed Jason's unique heritage with the little boy, and that's how this question had come about. After a slight pause, he asked, "Have you talked to your Mommy or Daddy about this? I mean, did they ask you to talk to me?"

Looking a little confused by Superman's question, Jason shook his head, "No. I decided to ask you by myself."

His response told Superman that the couple hadn't spoken to Jason yet after all. Clark carefully considered his response. "Jason, sometimes when people are really afraid, or really angry, they can become extra strong and do things they might not normally be able to do. I bet you were really scared when that man tried to attack Lois, weren't you?"

The child looked up him, the memory of the fear he'd felt that day shining in his eyes. "He was going to hit her with a big rock. I couldn't breathe and he was getting closer and closer and I thought if I could just knock him down or stop him somehow, he would leave her alone. So I took a deep breath and pushed the piano as hard as I could." Jason paused, and then asked, "Do you think he was ok? I wasn't trying to hurt him, even though he was going to hurt Mommy. I just wanted him to leave her alone."

Clark closed his eyes for a moment at that question. He could not lie and yet did not want to tell his son the truth, that he had killed someone. As he reopened them to meet Jason's solemn gaze, he said honestly, "No, Jason. He was not ok."

Jason's lower lip quivered as he tried not to cry, "I didn't mean to hurt him, I just didn't want him to hurt Mommy."

A deep burgeoning pain blossomed in Clark's chest at the sight of the boy's tears. Putting his hand on Jason's shoulder, he gave it a gentle squeeze and said, "I'm very glad that you saved your mommy, and I know she is too. And if I had been around it might not have happened at all."

"But you were helping all those other people then, weren't you? I saw you on TV. Afterwards, I mean. So you couldn't be there," Jason reminded him. He thought for a second, and then added, "Trish said her Daddy had to go help too, even though she kinda wanted him to stay home."

Superman reflected back on the respect and admiration he'd felt upon learning what the teen's parents did for a living and had to smile. "Trish's parents are pretty amazing people." He gave the little boy's shoulder another squeeze, stating, "Jason, if there's every a time you or your Mommy or Daddy need my help, I promise you I will do my absolute best to be there as fast as I can. But I want you to promise me something in return."

Jason met Superman's eyes, "Promise you what? That I will keep trying to keep Mommy safe from the bald man and his friends?"

"It's very important that Mommy be kept safe from the bald man and his friends, yes," Clark agreed with a slight nod. "But it's also very important that..." he floundered, trying to think of the best way to say it, "that we keep her safe in a way that no one gets hurt, even the bad people." His deep voice strengthened as he continued, "I am very strong and if I wasn't extra careful, I could really hurt people without even trying to. So when there are bad people who need to be stopped from hurting others, I just try to stop them. To prevent them from, well to make it so they can't hurt anyone until the police can get there. Do you know what I mean?" He studied Jason's face, searching for a sign the boy understood the point he was trying to get across.

The little boy's brow furrowed as he thought over what Superman had said. After a few moments, he slowly spoke, "So if I had maybe pushed the piano bench at him instead of the entire piano..."

It was a start. Superman nodded his approval, "Right, if you had pushed the bench at him, it would have stopped him from hurting your Mommy, but it wouldn't have hurt him so bad." He ruffled the child's shaggy hair with affection.

That earned him a smile from Jason. "Ok, Clark."

His hand went still. Clark lowered his hand back to the boy's thin shoulder and said, "Jason, I need you to do something else for me. I think you know that I've been keeping it a secret from everyone that I'm Superman. And I really need for you to help me and do the same thing. Can you keep it a secret?"

Jason nodded, but the confusion was evident on his face. "Why, Clark? How come you don't want anyone to know you're Clark and you're Superman too?"

It was a struggle to come up with the best way to answer that question and finally he said, "Because... well, because Clark is who I am. Superman is just what I can do." When the boy frowned at his explanation, Clark could only sigh. "I know it's hard to understand, but this is very important to me. Please, Jason, can you promise me?"

"I promise." His little nose wrinkled and he complained, "It's really hard to keep it a secret though."

"You've done a great job so far. You're a very smart little boy." Clark brushed a thick strand of hair away from Jason's face and said, "And I promise you, I will always try to be there when you need me-not just when you're in trouble, but for anything at all. But if for some reason I can't be there right away, if the time ever comes again when you need me to help you protect someone, or help someone else who needs it, I know you'll be able to think of the best and safest way to do it."

Jason grinned at him, "I'll just try to do exactly what I think you would do if you were there." Something disturbing occurred to him, and he reminded Superman with disappointment, "But I already know I can't be strong all the time like you cause I tried."

Superman smiled tenderly at his son, "I think that when you know deep down in your heart, right here," and his finger touched Jason's chest with his fingertip, "that you _have_ to be super strong in order to help someone, you will be able to do anything you set your mind to do."

"Even fly?" Jason said, his blue eyes bright with hope.

Clark had to chuckle at that, "Maybe even fly, someday."

Jason rewarded him with an enthusiastic hug around the neck, which Superman returned as he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

The bedroom door suddenly opened and Trish strode in, "Jason, I keep hearing talking, and I don't know if you're talking to yourself or what but..." Her voice trailed off as she immediately noticed the bed was empty. Then her eyes grew as wide as plates and her jaw dropped with astonishment as she realized exactly who Jason had been talking to. "Suh-suh-suh..." she stammered.

Giving Jason a last quick squeeze, Superman disengaged himself from his son's arms. He hadn't intended for Trish to catch him in the room, but he had been so caught up in his conversation with the little boy that he had neglected to keep an ear out for her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you." His deep voice was reassuring as he folded up the towel Jason had given him earlier into a neat rectangle.

Jason beamed up at Superman, and then turned to walk over to a dazed Trish. He took her hand in his, and tugged on it, inviting her closer to the tall hero. "He was listening just like you said he would be, and came to talk," the boy informed her with a happy smile.

Trish had managed to stop stuttering by the time she was dragged to within a few feet of Superman, though her expression was still stunned and amazed. Her gaze dropped down to the towel he now offered to her, and she reached out to take it with a trembling hand. "So that's why you had to go to the bathroom again earlier," she commented faintly to Jason.

The boy nodded, "Yeah. He was all wet and dripping water on the floor." A worried frown appeared on his face, and he assured her, "But it wasn't too much water, and he cleaned it all up."

Superman watched the interaction between the two with a slight smile on his face.

"So, uh," Trish managed, staring up at Superman again as she passed the damp towel from one hand to the other, "Did Jason get a chance to ask you his big question?" The teenager seemed both excited and awed by the hero's presence.

"He did," Superman affirmed with a nod, his rain dampened hair flopping slightly over his forehead. He lifted his hand and pushed it back in a quick gesture, while favoring the boy with a smile. Glancing back at Trish, he noticed that she had a vaguely puzzled expression on her face.

Jason's high pitched voice interrupted her reverie as he announced, "Trish was going to ask you a question too, weren't you?" He looked up at her and waited.

"I was?" Trish asked, then gave a slight shake of her head as if recollecting her thoughts. "Yes. No." Flushing bright red with embarrassment, the girl admitted, "I have a bout a gazillion questions floating around in my mind, and I can't concentrate on any one thing that's worth asking right at the moment."

"Why don't think about it a little more and ask me next time you see me," Superman kindly suggested, and began to turn away toward the window.

Next time? There was going to be a next time? Trish blinked, thinking the evening had rapidly gone from uneventful to surreal in a matter of minutes. "Wait!" she called, and then wrung the towel between nervous hands as Superman turned to face her again, one eyebrow raised in a wordless query.

The teen wouldn't meet his eyes as she began to stammer again, "Look, I, I know that this is really stupid and if you say no, I will completely understand but...And it's not really a question so much as it is a request. But I, well, you have to realize this is like a weird dream or something and I'm halfway expecting to wake up at any minute. Have you ever felt like that?" Without waiting for his answer, she plunged on, "No, of course you haven't, you're Superman for crying out loud." She drew in a deep breath and looked up at him. "I'm babbling, aren't I."

"No," Jason observed, "but you're talking a whole lot and what you're saying doesn't make any sense."

Superman had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a laugh at that. "Not terribly bad. I've heard worse."

Trish regarded him with suspcion, "Really? You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?... oh wait, you can't lie." As he inclined his head in acknowledgement, she smiled with hesitant relief. "So anyway, um, I was wondering if it would be ok if I.." she bit her lip, and finally said in a rush of words, "touched you. So I can kind of prove to myself that you're real."

Jason's expression was incredulous. "That's dumb," he said with all the authority, tact and wisdom of his five years.

"Jason," Superman chided the boy with a single word and a steady look.

Trish flushed again with embarrassment, further mangling the towel in her hands.

"Well it is," Jason defended. "She doesn't know that you..."

Superman cleared his throat to interrupt the little boy. "Remember what we talked about." Sighing, Jason bit his lip as though physically stopping himself from speaking further. "I can assure you I am quite real," the superhero said to Trish with a smile, "but it will ease your mind, then yes."

"Really?" Trish squeaked with excitement. Before she lost her nerve, she took two quick steps to stand beside him and slowly extended her hand toward his arm, which Superman obligingly held out for her. She felt the intricate fabric of the costume covering his forearm, before drifting down to where the cuff met exposed skin. The delicate touch of her fingertips brushed across his wrist and the back of his hand as though she was touching the rarest piece of spun glass rather than an invulnerable super hero. "Your skin is so warm," she observed, her voice filled with wonder. "You can feel that?" Jason had moved around behind Superman, and was examining the heavier cloth of the cape, his little face solemn.

"Of course," Superman was almost surprised by the question. "I can feel the same things you do."

Trish's hand dropped away from his wrist and she took a step back, looking into those deep blue eyes. For some reason, the act of physically touching him had done more to take away the dazed and excited stupor she had been in than anything else. "Thank you," she said simply, and then smiled down at Jason, who gave a mighty yawn as he shook the cape a little and watched the ripples of maroon to crimson appear in the fabric. "It's wayyy past your bed time, Jason."

The little boy must have been even more tired than he appeared for he made no protest. Instead, he stepped in front of Superman and held up his arms expectantly, waiting for a hug. Superman looked startled, but bent down to embrace the little boy. "Good night," he said, his voice rough.

Trish watched the exchange in silence, and then took Jason by the hand to lead him back to the bed, bending down to kiss him on the forehead again. The little boy heaved an exhausted sigh and rolled to his side, falling asleep almost immediately.

Superman watched as Trish tucked Jason in a second time. As she walked back toward him, he apologized, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kept him up so long," turning to open the window. The rain hadn't slacked off at all outside.

The girl couldn't stifle a quiet laugh as she shook her head. "Do you really think either of us minded? I'm glad you two got to have your talk. Whatever it was about." She had to have been curious about it, but she didn't ask. "So, I uh, guess we'll see you around," she said lamely.

There was genuine amusement on Superman's face at her choice of words. "I'm always around," he assured her, and took a step out into the rain before rising skyward and quickly shooting up through the low rain-filled clouds.

* * *

Kitty hated rain, for the simple reason that it was hell on her hair. She was going to end up needing a two hour treatment at the beauty parlor if this horrible weather didn't let up soon. Poor Pommy didn't look much better, despite the brushing she was giving the little red dog. Kitty rocked back in Lex's massive leather chair as she pulled yet another thick clump of hair off of the end of the brush and dropped it onto the desk.

The door to the office flew open and Lex walked in, followed by Dr. Avaira. A few steps behind were two of the thugs, a rangy black man named Cedric Murray and the shorter, stockier Nicky Palmer. The other three goons were no where to be seen. Nicky shut the door behind the others before moving to stand beside Cedric.

"Mr. Luthor," Dr. Avaira was saying, "I feel this has gone on quite long enough. I don't feel you are giving my project the attention that you've been showing in other matters, such as your news conference. You promised that you would have this 'perfect DNA specimen' ready and I've had everything prepared for days now. I'm just wondering how much longer..."

Lex turned on the heel of his shoe, his face still and his eyes cold as he looked back at the doctor. The genetic engineer's complaining came to an abrupt halt. "Dr. Avaira," Luthor said and despite his expression, the criminal's voice was at it's most charming. "Have you never heard the saying 'Patience is a virtue?' I said that I would get your DNA and your human guinea pigs, and I will. I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Kitty hurriedly got up from the chair while the bald man's back was turned and after a moment's thought, brushed the clumps of dog hair from the desk into the trash. When Lex faced her way again, she gave him her most charming smile and cuddled Pommy close to her cheek.

Dr. Avaira gulped, his expression turning to one of relief as Lex's attention turned elsewhere. "I'm sorry, I'm doing my best to be patient, it's just that, well as you know, I'm basically at a stand still in regards to the progress I can make in the experimentation process."

Lex's smile did not reach his eyes as he regarded the geneticist from across the desk, "Believe me, you made that quite clear the other four times you brought it to my attention, thank you, Dr. Avaira."

The slim man nervously cleared his throat. "I see. If I could have a general time line though..." Avaira suggested.

Steepling his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his desk, Lex leaned forward and this time the smile was more sincere. "Soon, very soon. The pieces are all in place, and now we are just waiting for the perfect moment to... secure the DNA source. Timing is of the utmost essence if we want to pull this off without mishap."

Kitty shifted from one foot to another and scratched Pommy's neck as she listened.

Avaira had to be satisfied with that. He ducked his head in acknowledgement and muttered, "I'd better go check on those cultures." Then he made his way out of the office, closing the door behind him as he left.

Lex watched him go. "How is it that scientists have so much intelligence, but yet lack so much common sense," the bald man wondered with a grimace.

"Maybe there's only room in their head for one or the other?" Kitty offered, one eyebrow arched upward.

Abruptly, Lex got to his feet and addressed Cedric. "Everything is set? The surveillance hasn't been compromised?"

The black man shook his head, beaded dreadlocks rattling. "Tony checked in about an hour ago, said that HE had been in the house around nine, but that he flew off and now it was just the girl and the kid."

Nicky made a rude sound, "I don't know why we just don't grab him right now, while the parents are away. It isn't like that girl is going to put up a fight."

Lex fixed his steely gaze on the stocky blonde man, "Because trust me, even though you can't see him, he is most certainly paying very close attention to everything that goes on in the house when Ms. Lane and her fiance aren't home."

Grudgingly, Nicky nodded acquiescence, "Yes, Mr. Luthor."

Kitty bit her lip with apprehension as she listened. While she didn't know the exact details of Lex's latest plan but she was absolutely certain it would not bode well for Lois Lane, her little boy, or Superman. With every day that passed, her helplessness and dread increased. What had begun as the con job to end all con jobs had instead turned into a trap that she had no chance of escaping from. Pommy whimpered and nuzzled her hand.

Rising to his feet and turning to look out the window, where rain continued to pour down heavily, Lex continued, "No, we must wait until his attention is focused elsewhere before we make our move. After all, he's a busy man and crime never sleeps. It's just a matter of time."


	13. Hit and Run

A/N Finally, some action! his chapter is shorter than my recent ones have been but what happens in the chapter should more than make up for that ;)

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Chapter 12: Hit and Run

The steady rain finally moved off shore overnight and Sunday morning dawned gloriously, with that fresh crispness that made sunny autumn days so enjoyable.

Lois came down the stairs, buttoning the cuffs on her blouse. The smell of bacon cooking permeated the entire house, and she inhaled deeply when she entered the kitchen. "Something smells delicious!"

"Daddy made bacon, eggs, and biscuits!" Jason announced from around a mouthful of food. He and Trish were sitting at the kitchen table with plates in front of them, while Richard served up two more plates.

"Richard..?" Lois stopped dead, staring at Jason with growing alarm. "Is he eating eggs?"

Trish blinked at the little boy, "Is he not supposed to?"

Richard tapped the spatula on the edge of the frying pan and put them both into the sink. "He's not allergic to them anymore, I realized after he snuck some off my plate last week while you were at work. I think he really is beginning to outgrow all of his allergies, I don't think he's had shrimp or peanuts yet, but he's definitely not allergic to wheat, eggs and milk anymore." As his eyes met Lois', one brow raised as if to convey a deeper meaning, then picked up a plate of food to hold out for to her. "Sorry, I thought I mentioned it."

"Yay!" Jason exulted, "No more macrobiotic shakes!" and drank deeply from his milk. As he lowered the glass, a thick white mustache remained on his upper lip.

"Ah. Yes, you should have, but I forgive you…. This time," Lois said, but came over to give Richard a quick good morning kiss. She accepted the plate, grabbed a fork and sat down at the table, then half-stood again. "Coffee," she muttered under her breath.

"I'll get it," Richard offered, and brought her a mug a few moments later. "There you go." He sat down with his own plate of food, and popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. "Pass the butter?"

"I don't even know what a macrobiotic shake is, and I am not sure I want to know," Trish grinned at the little boy as she obliged, passing the little tub of margarine to Richard. "So you're finally out growing your allergies? You'll be as big and strong as your daddy in no time."

Lois choked on her coffee. Richard froze in the process of buttering his biscuit, but recovered swiftly and asked, "Honey are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Lois managed in a strangled voice, and cleared it a few times, fanning her mouth. Jason and Trish just looked at her, wide eyed. "Sorry, I… the coffee was hotter than I expected," she explained with a reassuring smile and picked up her mug again.

Trish was old enough to know something was off, but judging from her confused expression she had no idea what. She nodded however, and asked, "So how was the ball? Is the Hinnen Hotel as grand as they say? Get any good interviews?" before she bit into her biscuit.

"The hotel was nice, the ball was boring," Richard informed her with a grin. "Then again, I think all of those kinds of events are pretty dull. Sadly, I think the dancing and the hors d'oeuvres were the best parts of the night."

A flicker of irritation appeared on Lois' face. "I didn't get a single good interview. Every time I started to ask a decent question, people would interrupt to ask me what I thought Lex Luthor was up to, or when the last time I saw Superman." Her dark eyes flickered over to Richard at mention of the hero.

His blue eyes met hers as Richard wryly said, "That started to get old in a hurry. I don't think quite enough time has passed for you to be completely out of the limelight, Lois." He shook his head, then inquired, "How bout you two? You have fun last night? Did Jason get to bed on time?"

Jason grinned at his parents from around a heavily jellied biscuit. "We had fun," the little boy stated simply, his gaze shifting to Trish.

The teen cleared her throat, "We did the same thing we did last time. Watched some TV, played some games, that kind of thing. He got to bed a little late," she admitted, moving the scrambled eggs around on her plate. "We got, ah, distracted. But not too late, I promise."

Lois gave her son a knowing look, "I bet I know why. How many stories did he talk you into reading?"

"Only three," Jason shrugged, that adorable half smile on his face.

Trish laughed, "Yep, three. I had caught onto his tricks by the last book though." She happened to glance at the clock over the stove and grimaced. "I told my mom I'd be home by eight," she apologetically informed the two adults.

Richard frowned, "You want me to call and talk to her? Tell her we got a little bit of a late start? I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Hurry up and finish your breakfast, munchkin," Lois ordered Jason, and began to eat with more speed as well.

"Nah, thanks though, Mr. White," Trish gave the man a grateful smile. "I'll call her and tell her you'll be bringing me home soon."

"Actually," Richard glanced at Lois, "I've got to head to the Planet to pick up some paperwork. I'll take a cab, and Lois and Jason can give you a lift home in the car, if that's alright?"

The girl nodded, "Sure, that'll be fine."

The rest of breakfast passed in a rush and about twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Trish's. Traffic was fairly light, which was quite typical for a Sunday morning. The radio station was tuned to one of those stations that played a mixture of popular music.

"So what's Clark got you working on this week," Lois asked as she glanced in the rear view mirror and gave Jason a smile.

Trish grinned, "He's been letting me help him out with a piece on urban renewal Hobb's Bay. It's been really interesting so far. I mean, mostly I've just been doing a lot of research on the history of the district." She paused for a moment, then said, "You know Hobb High School is there? I can't imagine what it must be like to go to school down the street from a crack house, or be afraid to walk to school because of things you'd see on the street."

"He's doing another feature on Suicide Slum?" Lois referred to the district by its better known nickname and shook her head. "I don't know what it is with him and that area of Metropolis. He was always doing investigative reports there before he went on his leave of absence." She gave Trish a sharp look, "Please don't tell me Clark is taking you with him to Suicide Slum to follow up on leads."

The teen looked a little sulky at that, "No, he won't let me come along, he says it's too dangerous. And that if my parents found out he was taking me some place that dangerous, they'd never let me come to work there again."

Lois nodded, "Good. He's right, it is too dangerous." She thought about it for a moment and a frown darkened her brow, "Actually, he doesn't need to be going there alone either. Even cops don't go out alone there during daytime, I bet."

Trish grimaced, "Yeah, well he's getting some really good material for Mr. White. He's had, what, three articles on Superman in the past two weeks? He got two of those while he was in the Slum."

Lois unconsciously tightened her grip on the steering wheel at mention of the hero, and made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. Then her natural competitive streak reared its head and she grumped, "Yeah well if Perry wasn't keeping me chained to the office while this whole Lex thing is going on, I'd have had a few headliners of my own." They were nearing Trish's neighborhood now, and traffic had actually dwindled even more. The only vehicle on the road besides her Audi was the Hummer about a half a block behind her.

Trish seemed surprised by the reporter's attitude. "Of course you would have, you're one of the best investigative reporters in the whole world," she said sincerely, giving the older woman an admiring glance.

A little embarrassed by the praise, Lois turned her head to smile at Trish. As she did, her eyes fixed on something outside the Audi and flew open with alarm.

Lois didn't even have time to scream. A large SUV struck the passenger front end of the blue car with considerable force. Both front airbags deployed immediately, but did nothing to quiet the sickening crunch of metal on metal and broken glass that filled her ears. The front windshield had shattered, as did both the passenger and driver's side windows. They were jolted backwards by the airbags, and tires screeched as the vehicle was hit again, this time from behind by the massive black Hummer. Trish cried out in pain and fear at the second impact. The radio is still playing, Lois dimly thought to herself as her airbag deflated with a hiss, and then fear for Jason filled her mind.

"Jason?" Lois cried, twisting in her seat to examine the little boy. He was just sitting there, still buckled in his safety seat, his eyes wide with fear. Relieved beyond belief, she demanded, "Are you ok?"

Jason nodded and in a wavering voice said, "Trish?"

Trish moaned, "I can't move… my legs are stuck." The girl pushed the deflated airbag out of the way, and now Lois could see that when the first SUV had hit right the Audi right in front of where Trish was seated, it'd crushed the metal frame enough to push the dashboard down onto her lower thighs. She was firmly pinned between the crumpled dash and the cushion of her seat.

Lois unbuckled herself. She was about to help push down on the bucket seat in an attempt to free Trish when the sound of doors shutting reached her ears. Her gaze met Trish's before she leaned back into her seat, and with trepidation slowly turned her head to look out the driver's side window as the person nearest approached.

There were four of them, and they were all dressed similarly, in dark pants, with black jackets and ski masks that covered all but their eyes and noses. A fraction of a second later, she saw that the one closest to her had a gun. She abruptly realized they all did. One came to her side of the vehicle, the other three went to the passenger side.

"Shoot her first," one by Trish's door said in a raspy voice, and time stood still as the man right beside Lois immediately lifted the gun he held with his gloved black hand. The barrel seemed immense at this range, the gun itself strangely deformed. It coughed once and she felt a stinging sensation in her neck. Then everything went dark.

The world shrank in on Trish as the man pulled the trigger and shot Lois. She whimpered, paralyzed with sheer terror. Wetness pooled beneath her as her bladder released in an involuntary response to her intense fear. She fought off a wave of darkness.

Jason's shrieks were the only thing that helped her remain conscious. "Mommy! Mommy!" He erupted from his booster seat, the straps breaking like twine. Clambering over the seat, the boy hugged her around the neck and sobbed, rocking back and forth.

"Get the boy, he's the reason we're here," one of their assailants ordered, and again that quiet chuffing sound was heard. Trish stared uncomprehendingly as a tuft of red feathers appeared in Jason's back. Another dart rolled down to land in Lois' lap, knocked free by the boy's fierce hug. She suddenly realized the guns were tranquilizer guns, not real guns.

A long moment passed as the sounds of Jason's agonized cries filled the car. But the child remained conscious. Then the man nearest her cursed, "It didn't take. Shoot him again!"

Trish swallowed her fear as best she could. "Jason?" Her voice wavered and she tried to reassure the little boy even as another dart imbedded itself into his shoulder. "Mommy's going to be just fine, she's just sleeping. She's just taking a little nap and when she wakes up she'll be just fine." Of course the girl had no idea if that was true or not but vaguely she realized that if they'd wanted them dead, their attackers would have brought guns with real bullets.

In a strange twist of irony, on the radio the band Three Doors Down was singing about "Kryptonite." Where was Superman?

Jason rocked back and looked at Lois, his small hand brushing the hair off of her face. He pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead, and then turned to face Trish, his little face strangely determined and his blue eyes bright and intense. "I'm going to help you get out."

The boy scooted in beside her on the seat, began pushing against the dashboard with all of his might.

"Jason, leave it, you're not strong enough," Trish whispered, and tried to draw the boy into a hug with the arm that could reach him.

Their foes muttered among themselves. "We've only got one left, so if this doesn't work…"

"You better hope it does."

"I AM strong enough," Jason whispered resolutely. Metal groaned in protest and the plastic covering the dashboard began to crumple under the little boy's hands.

The intense press of weight on Trish's thighs eased. The girl's fear turned to astonishment as she realized that if he pushed up a little more, she'd be able to free herself.

The radio went to a newsbreak and a woman excitedly announced that Superman had been sighted minutes ago in Indonesia helping rescue children from a school building that had collapsed. Dozens were dead, and scores more were feared to be buried alive in the rubble.

"Phfutt." The last dart hit Jason, this time in the back of his neck. He faltered as it seemed like the drugs finally began to take effect. The boy slumped, falling back into Trish's arm. His eyes were still open, but quickly glazing over.

"Jason?" Trish cried frantically. "It'll be ok, it'll be ok," she began crying openly for the first time. "Jason, stay with me…."

The little boy reached up to pat her cheek tenderly as she cuddled him close. He whispered groggily into her ear, quietly enough that only she could hear, "Tell Clark... I mean, tell Superman I said it's ok that he couldn't come help us, cause I know he is saving all those kids at that school. Tell him I'm going to keep my promise and…" Jason's blue eyes fluttered shut and he went limp.

Less than three minutes had passed since the car was hit.

Trish's face was ashen as she stared down at the boy, trying to absorb what he had said.

The Audi rocked as the door Lois leaned against was yanked open, and one of the masked men leaned down into the car. "Hello there, cutie pie," he said, and one eye winked at her from behind the mask as he reached toward her.

This time, she didn't try to fight the darkness when it came.


	14. Illusion and Reality

Chapter 13: Illusion and Reality

The radio announcer in Lois Lane's car may have said that Superman had been on the scene for a few minutes, but in reality he'd been there far longer helping recover survivors from the wreckage of the boarding school in Indonesia. It was heartbreaking work. There were so many children that been killed in the initial collapse that he could do nothing to help. The terrified cries of children still trapped under the rubble intermingled with the anguished wails of bereaved parents nearly deafened him.

His vision gave him the advantage in locating the survivors and in knowing the best and safest ways to pull them out as quickly as possible. Although it was a certainty that there would have been far more deaths without Superman there to help in search and rescue efforts, that would be of little consolation to the parents who's children had perished in the collapse.

By the time Superman made it back to Metropolis, it'd been more than ninety minutes since the school collapsed, and less than thirty since four armed men had approached Lois Lane's car. He had just returned to a looping patrol flight over the city when the flashing red, white and blue lights of emergency vehicles and police cars in one of the suburbs caught his eye. Swooping in for a closer look, he immediately realized that one car had been struck by two larger vehicles, and that the blue Audi A3 belonged to none other than Lois Lane and Richard White.

EMTs were in the process of pulling Trish from the crumpled vehicle, and as Superman landed a few feet away, he asked politely, "Anything I can do to help?" The steady confidence in his voice did nothing to belie the worry and fear he felt as he realized that neither Lois nor Jason were anywhere to be seen.

"Superman?" Trish immediately lifted her head from the stretcher, craning it to look around for the caped superhero.

"Trish," Daniel Mason warned, and Superman realized he was one of the EMTs attending to his daughter as they strapped her to the stretcher. "If you can't keep still, I'm going to put you on one of those backboards with the head restraints."

The other EMT, an older but vigorous brunette with a badge naming her as Pearl, shook her head, "Give her a break, Danny. It's the first time she's seen him in the flesh." She grinned suddenly and glanced at Superman before doublechecking the straps on the stretcher. "Hell, I'm halfway inclined to gawk myself."

Superman approached the stretcher and scanned her body for injuries as Trish lowered her head, still staring at him with a strange expression. "She'll be fine," he announced to the girl's father with a reassuring smile. "No broken bones or internal injuries. There's just the bruising on her legs."

Relief filled Daniel Mason's eyes, and he gave a brisk nod, explaining, "She was pinned in the car, we had to unbolt the seat to get her out. We're still taking her to the hospital though." He paused and added, "Not that I don't believe you but…"

"I understand," Superman said with a smile and glanced down at Trish again. She was still staring at him, only instead of the awe and hero worship that had been there last night when she'd seen him in Jason's bedroom, her gaze on him was speculative and searching.

Trish's eyes flew open with the shock of recognition. "My god. O my god. Suh... You… " She closed her eyes, biting her lips to keep from blurting out anything.

She knows, Clark immediately realized and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to have held you up. I'm going to ask some of these officers if I can be of assistance." He watched as Daniel and Pearl nodded and began to lift the stretcher into the ambulance.

Then Trish called out, "Wait… Um. Superman." The girl darted a nervous glance between her father and his partner as she drew in a deep breath and stammered, "Um. If you, uh, happen to see Clark Kent, would you tell him what happened? Maybe he could come see me at the hospital if, ah, if he's not too busy." Her dark eyes conveyed a deeper meaning.

"I'd be happy to do that, ma'am. If I see him," Superman said.

Daniel stepped out from behind the stretcher in the ambulance, resting one hand on the door while stating, "And tell him no interviews and no pictures. Come on, Pearl." He pulled the doors shut as Pearl started the engine. A few minutes later the ambulance was driving off, sirens and lights flashing.

Superman studied the officers to determine which one had the highest rank and approached the tall stocky man. As he drew near, the policeman quickly introduced himself, "Sergeant Michael Baker." The cop worriedly regarded him, and asked, "You know who's car that is, right?" and received a nod in return.

"Was Richard White or Lois Lane driving?" Superman asked as he walked over to inspect the accident site.

"The girl said that Ms. Lane was driving, and she had her son in the back seat," Sergeant Baker told him, coming to stand beside the caped hero. "CSI is on the way and should be here in a few minutes. FBI," and here the man grimaced, "has also been called in, since this appears to be a kidnapping."

"So the Excursion and the Hummer deliberately hit the car to trap it," Superman spoke quietly, noting the angling of the larger vehicles and the lack of skid marks under them. It indicated neither SUV had made an attempt to slow down before hitting the smaller Audi, as would occur in a normal accident scene.

Baker nodded, glancing down at a notepad he held. "Yes, that's what we think. Both the Ford and the Hummer were stolen overnight. Planned ahead I'm sure, but a smash and grab job none the less. Anyway so the perps shot Ms. Lane and the boy, and…"

Superman jerked with surprise, a feeling of nausea rising into his throat. "… Shot them?"

The stocky officer raised his hands, clarifying. "Shot them with tranquilizer darts, not with bullets. Sorry, shoulda made that clear," Baker apologized. "The kidnappers wanted them alive, but unconscious."

A surge of relief filled Superman at that, and he understood why they had been drugged, "They wanted them unconscious so they couldn't call for help." Not that he would have been focused enough to hear them anyway, amid the wails and screams of the catastrophe in Indonesia.

Baker thought for a moment and his slow nod acknowledged the likelihood of that scenario. "I bet you're right. We'd thought they had tranked them just to make them easier to transport. But since it was Lois Lane in particular, well, if anyone's cry for help could bring you at a moment's notice, it'd be hers."

Superman said nothing in response to that, instead asking, "So you think that they put them into another vehicle? Since they left these two at the accident scene? How many were there, anyway? What'd they look like?"

The sergeant read his notes, "Four men all in black, with ski masks on to hide their identities. They had gloves on, so no chance of getting fingerprints. She didn't see a third vehicle. The girl said the dart that hit Lois Lane had dropped down but we didn't find it in the car, so they must have taken it with them after she passed out."

"So they didn't shoot Trish with the tranquilizer darts?" Superman asked.

"Nope," Baker replied. "She said they used one on Ms. Lane, but they ended up having to use three to knock the little boy out." He frowned at that, and stated, "That doesn't make any sense, why would it take one to knock out the woman, but it took three to render the child unconscious. Maybe they were misfires." He studied the little notepad for a moment longer and his brow furrowed in confusion, "Here's something weird. The teenager said that they were after the boy in particular. Why would the kid be more of a target than Lois Lane?"

Again, Superman didn't respond, but he knew who was behind the kidnapping now, as the list of people who knew Jason's heritage was a short one. "Any chance Lex Luthor may have been involved? Given his recent public spats with Lois Lane and the Daily Planet? Maybe he's holding a grudge…"

But Sergeant Baker was already shaking his head. "We don't know one way or the other if he was involved, but we are do know for sure Luthor wasn't one of the kidnappers, because he's been at the station since seven o'clock this morning going over his story again with the police chief..." An unmarked sedan pulled up and two men exited the car. "Looks like CSI is here, excuse me." The officer headed that way.

There was nothing that Superman hated in the world more than feeling helpless, and now for the second time in two hours that frustrating emotion nearly overwhelmed him. However, with so little information to go on in locating Jason and Lois' abductors, there was little he could do. He flew up into the sky.

He spent the next few hours looking and listening for any signs that might indicate Lois or Jason's whereabouts, to no avail. After a quick x-ray scan of the Metropolis police chief's desk, he gleaned Lex Luthor's current address in the wealthy north side of Metropolis.

The music of Georges Bizet's opera "Carmen" blared throughout the mansion, as within, Lex Luthor idled time away reading nonfiction bestseller "The World is Flat," by Thomas L. Friedman. At the other end of the house, Kitty's expression was bored as she watched TV, her Pomeranian nestled on her lap while she flipped between Animal Planet and the Home Shopping Network. Scanning the entire mansion from top to bottom yielded nothing that might indicate where Lois and Jason were… if indeed Lex was the one behind the abductions.

Superman became Clark Kent before he went to Metropolis General Hospital to check up on Trish, only to discover she'd already been discharged. It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and had been more than seven hours since Lois and Jason were taken.

Clark used the ER payphone to call up the Daily Planet and spoke to Jimmy. The young man's usual cheer was gone. He solemnly informed Clark that Richard was at the waterfront home he shared with Lois and Jason, hoping and praying for a call from the kidnappers. The FBI was at the Planet, and Perry White had a huge row with them regarding wire-tapping all of the phones in the office. Not even for Lois Lane and Jason would the Chief sacrifice the paper's right to Freedom of the Press, and many of the journalists regularly took calls from informants that were of a highly confidential nature.

After ending the call, Clark slowly inserted the correct amount of change and dialed Trish's cell phone.

She answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Clark." With everything else that had been going on, he'd managed to avoid thinking about the ramifications of the teen knowing his secret identity. But now that he was in conversation with her, he felt strangely awkward. "I, uh, I'm at the hospital, but obviously you're not here. Sorry it took so long, I was… chasing a few leads."

"Clark!" Trish squeaked. There was silence as he heard her draw in a deep breath as though trying to remain calm. Clearing her throat, she said in a more normal tone, "Right. Well, I guess you got my message…"

"I did," Clark replied simply. "How are you feeling?"

"Really sore. I uh… hang on a moment." There was a rustle as Trish muffled the phone and called out, "Mom, is it alright if Clark comes over since he missed me at the hospital?"

He heard the teen's mother reply in the background, "Yes. In fact, why don't you ask if he wants to stay for dinner. We're ordering pizza."

Trish uncovered the cell phone and spoke into the mouthpiece, "If you want to come over, Mom says you can stay for supper, we're ordering pizza…"

"I'll be there as soon as I can catch a cab," Clark stated, and added, "See you soon."

Twenty minutes later Clark was ringing the doorbell to the Mason's modestly sized house.

Jamie Mason opened the door and favored the tall reporter with a genuine smile. "Clark. Good to see you again, though I'm sure you know I wish it were under better circumstances." She waved him into the house and closed the door behind him, " Here, let me take your coat."

"Oh, thanks, Mrs. Mason." Clark shrugged out of his grey overcoat and offered it to her. Pushing his glasses further up on his nose as he watched the woman hang it in the hall closet, he inquired, "How is Trish doing? I heard they had to cut her out of the car…?"

"Call me Jamie, please. She'll be fine," Jamie reassured him. "Just bumps and bruises, really. She's sore now, and it'll be even worse in the morning, I guarantee you." A nervous hand brushed her blonde hair behind her ears, and grimly she added, "It could have been a lot worse. Has there been any news regarding Lois Lane or her little boy?"

Clark heaved a sigh as he shook his head, "No. Not a word. The FBI is on the scene though, at Richard White's house and at the Planet. Hopefully they'll hear something soon."

Jamie mustered a smile that did little to dispel the sadness and worry in her soft brown eyes, "I'm sure they're both fine and will be found soon." Turning away to lead him further into the house, she informed him, "Patricia is in her bedroom. Normally I'd call her down, but I'm trying to limit her activity for the next twenty-four hours, so she's supposed to be resting. So she won't be into work for a few days. In fact, if Danny has it his way, she won't be returning to work at the Planet at all."

The tall reporter stumbled slightly at that revelation, his blue eyes apprehensive as he watched Jamie Mason pause at the foot of the stairs and turn to face him. "He's worried that she isn't safe there." It was more a statement than a question.

The blond woman bit her lip and avoided his gaze as she rested her hand on the banister. "We both are," Jamie admitted with a quiet sigh as she finally met his eyes. "She'd be devastated if we didn't let her go back. We just… need some time to talk it over."

"I understand. She'd be greatly missed." Clark hesitated and said, "You know I'd never let anything happen to her if there were any way possible for me to prevent it." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could retract them. Not because they weren't sincere, but he immediately realized he had spoken with a tone of resolve usually reserved for his alter ego instead of Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter.

From upstairs, Trish shouted impatiently, "Mom, are you going to let Clark come upstairs, or am I going to have to come down?"

Jamie Mason just stared at him for a long moment. Clark allowed himself to squirm at the intensity of her dark-eyed scrutiny, suddenly realizing which of her parents Trish had inherited her strong sense of perception from. "I'll be right up, I'm just chatting with your mom," he called back, adjusting his glasses.

"Patricia Suzanne Mason, you'd better not get out of that bed," Jamie Mason yelled back in warning. Lowering her voice a normal level, she directed the tall reporter with a smile, "Up the stairs, turn right, and her room is the last door on the left." She walked off in the opposite direction, and Clark tracked her with his vision as she went into the laundry room to resume folding clothes.

Trish's bedroom was probably like any other teenage girl's room, only with a complete absence of the color pink. Instead it had been decorated in rich cobalt blues and trimmed with buttery gold. There were movie posters on the wall from Star Wars (more Jedi than Sith) and The Lord of the Rings. A corkboard above a desk proudly displayed the MMORPG article she and Clark had worked on together. The only evidence of her brief hospital stay was the small vase on top of a dresser near her bead. It was stuffed with yellow flowers and had a "Get Well Soon!" card jutting out.

Trish, dressed in sweats and a comfortable t-shirt, was sitting on her bed opposite the doorway to her room. Her legs were stretched out in front of her as she leaned against the headboard. She averted her gaze from looking directly at him and gestured at the desk chair set up beside her bed. "Have a seat."

Silently, Clark made his way across the room. Pausing to remove his mud brown suit jacket, he hung it over the back of the chair before sitting down and rested his hands on his thighs. "No Harvey Potter?" he commented with a crooked smile and gestured at the wall.

"Harry Potter," Trish corrected, remaining motionless while staring down at her hands as he settled into the chair. She snuck a peek at him and then closed her eyes, ordering, "Take off your glasses."

This was it, the moment of truth. He tried to laugh off her request, "If I take off my glasses, how will I be able to see?"

"Just... please."

Clark slowly removed his glasses and lowered them. "Okay, they're off."

Trish drew in a deep breath as her eyes opened, and then she turned her head to look directly at him. The teen didn't realize it, but she studied the planes of his chiseled features with keenness identical to her mother's earlier examination of Clark's visage. Biting her lip at what she saw there, she looked away again. "You can put them back on." As he lifted his glasses back to his face, the girl muttered with self-disgust, "You must think I'm a total idiot."

Clark slipped the black framed glasses back on. "Why would I think you were an idiot?" he asked.

The teen's expression was incredulous as she stared at him. "Because I am? I've been practically living in your work area at the Daily Planet for how many weeks now? And I only just now figured it out? The entire time I was in the hospital I tried to remember everything, every detail that should have clued me in, and believe me there were a LOT of them, and in the end I still didn't make the connection until Jason said something." She kept her voice low so that her mother would be unable to hear.

"You're not an idiot," he told her firmly. "There are people I've known for years who don't know the truth. Superman doesn't wear a mask, so people don't even think of him-of me-having secret identity, and I'd really like to keep it that way." Clark found himself repeating what he'd said to Jason the night before, "Trish, listen to me. Superman is what I can do. But Clark Kent is who I really am, the investigative reporter for the Daily Planet who grew up on a farm in Smallville, Kansas, far away from the bright lights and the big city. If I had to be Superman all the time..." He had to shake his head to dispel that unpleasant thought from his head.

Trish knit her fingers together and considered that possibility. It didn't take a genius to realize what a nightmare that'd be. Clark would all but cease to exist, because who would want Clark when they could have Superman? "I guess you'd be even more stressed than my dad is when he gets off a three-day stint at the station."

"'Stressed' wouldn't even come close to how I'd feel. Arkham Asylum would have to reserve a cell for me."

"Right. Like it'd hold you.," Trish snorted.

"Well, you get my meaning. The world may need Superman, but Superman needs Clark Kent. I need the... the normalcy of this life. If I didn't have it, it'd drive me crazy. Think of how hard it's going to be for you to treat me normally now that you know the truth and how much worse it'd be if the whole world knew."

She worried her lip for a moment, studying his face. "I promise I won't tell a single soul about any of this. And I'll do my best to treat you just like I've been doing..." Trish's brown eyes widened as she remembered how she'd been treating him and hid her face with her hands, "Oh my god, I can't believe I called you stupid to your face. And gave you that nickname. And then asked to touch you last night…" That was enough to make her pick up a pillow and cover her face with it. "Kill me now," she pleaded in abject misery and humiliation.

Clark just blinked at her dark head, amusement filling him as he recalled his astonishment when she'd called Superman stupid during their first meal together. The humor grew as he recollected her colorful description of the infamous Supersneeze, and being labeled as Butterfingers. A chuckle escaped him, and then another. Then he gave up, lowering his head as he laughed outright.

"It's not funny," Trish's voice was muffled behind the pillow, but her own shoulders were beginning to shake with humor as well at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Stop laughing," she demanded, trying to frown at him and failing miserably. Without thinking, she swung the pillow at his head.

The result of the collision between the object in motion (the pillow) and the immovable object (Clark) was instantaneous and memorable. The pillow exploded into a riot of feathers.

Wide-eyed, they stared at each other in shock as downy gray and white feathers drifted in the air around them, and then Trish doubled over giggling again. Clark's glasses had been knocked askew on his nose and hung there precariously. He adjusted them, murmuring a quiet, "Oops."

"Patricia? Clark? What on earth is going on up there?" Trish's mom asked as she started up the stairs with a laundry basket filled with clean clothes.

Trish was still chortling as she and Clark looked down at the feathers which were now scattered all over the bed and floor, along with the tattered remnants of the battered pillow. "Just leave them," she told him, "I'll still have to explain the busted pillow one way or the other anyway."

Jamie walked down the hall to Trish's room. "Clark, what do you like on your…. Good heavens, what on earth happened in here?" she demanded, lowering the laundry basket to stare at the feathery disaster area around Trish's bed.

Raising his hand to claim responsibility, Clark said with a crooked smile, "She didn't believe that my head was as hard as a rock."

Trish's mouth dropped at open his reply, and another fit of giggles overtook her. She regained control of her laughter long enough to assure her mother, "I'll clean it up right away, I promise," and began scooping feathers back into the pillow, which was a hopeless cause from the onset.

Like all mothers, Jamie could sense that there was more to this story than what was being said, and a single raised eyebrow conveyed that. "Get it cleaned up before the food gets here, alright? Now then, as I was saying, Clark, what do you like on your pizza?" she asked and withdrew some clothes from the laundry basket, then carried them over to put into her daughter's dresser.

"Anything's fine," Clark replied, brushing feathers out of his hair and off his sleeves. "Pepperoni?"

"With mushrooms," Trish added, pressing down on the feathers in the pillow bag.

Jamie eyed Clark's tall frame critically, and then said, "We'd better go with two pizzas to be on the safe side. One pepperoni with mushrooms, and one supreme with no olives." She left the room with the laundry basket, stopping by the linen closet to restock the towels and washcloths, and then headed into the master bedroom with the rest of the clothing.

Clark got to his feet to dust the rest of the feathers off of him, and caught sight of the flower vase again. "Who's that from? You weren't at the hospital that long."

Trish reddened, allowing her blonde hair to drop down and hide her expression. "Jimmy Olsen. He brought them the hospital a little while after I got there, he said he came as soon as he heard. He was so sweet. Dad practically confiscated his camera before he'd let him into the room."

"Jimmy never goes anywhere without his camera. Where is your dad, anyway?" Clark wondered. "He's not still at work, is he? After everything that's happened today?"

The teenager made a face, "Yep, he's at work. They didn't have any other emergency runs for a couple hours after I got to the hospital, so he was able to stay with me for a little while. But like we told you the other night, they don't let EMTs or firefighters off work for family emergencies. Which sucks," she informed him as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, wincing. "Ouch."

Even though it'd been mentioned, Clark was still surprised to learn that her father wasn't able to leave work to be with Trish. He was beginning to realize that Daniel Mason and Superman had more in common than he'd ever believed possible.

The plastic rattle of wheels on hardwood floor preceded the return of Trish's mom. She nudged the vacuum cleaner with her foot, "Thought this might make cleaning up those feathers go faster. I've already ordered the pizza." Jamie scrutinized her daughter's pained expression, and ordered, "If it hurts just to stand Patricia, then you don't need to stand. Get back on the bed. After supper, if you need them you can take some of the painkillers." She carried the empty laundry basket back downstairs.

Clark retrieved the vacuum cleaner and unwound the cord before plugging it into a wall outlet. "So Jimmy's bringing you flowers now…." He switched on the vacuum, allowing the low roar of the machine to fill the room as he used it to suck up feathers.

Trish flushed an even brighter shade of red and threatened, "I do have another pillow." He chuckled and lifted the chair, giving it firm one-handed shake to knock the rest of the feathers free. She watched in silence for a moment as he ran the sweeper, struck by the strangeness of Superman helping clean her room. "You can still hear me, right?"

Lowering the chair, Clark nodded his assent.

"Did Sergeant Baker tell you everything that happened? At the accident?" Trish asked, and Clark just looked at her, his expression full of pain and regret. "Don't blame yourself, you were helping those kids in Indonesia right? No one can be everywhere at once, not even you."

Clark sighed with resignation and leaned down to detach the hose from the vacuum. Her words didn't make him feel any better about what happened but he couldn't deny the truth in them.

Trish levered herself off the bed again with a grimace of pain so Clark could get all the feathers on the coverlet. "You think Lex Luthor is behind it?" she wondered, and at his quick nod, she added, "But you couldn't find any evidence?"

This time, he spoke aloud in response to that question, "Not a thing. I checked everywhere I knew to look." Clark stated just over the noise of the cleaner.

Her brow furrowed into a frown as Trish thought that over, and then a question occurred to her. "Does Lex Luthor know who you really are?"

"No," Clark declared as he bent down to use the wand attachment under the bed, sucking up the feathers that had drifted there.

"Wait, how many people do know, then? Jason knows for sure, and I know… does anyone else?" Trish inquired, and her eyebrows lifted with surprise as he raised a single finger. "Only one other person? Is it someone I've met? Like someone from the Daily Planet?"

Again, Clark shook his head. "My mom knows too."

Trish drew a total blank. Superman had a mother? Then she realized while Superman may not have had a mother, Clark Kent most certainly did, "The white-haired woman in that picture on your desk at work? She has such a kind face."

Clark smiled at her description before looking around for any remaining feathers.

Hesitating for a moment, Trish admitted, "I didn't tell Sergeant Baker everything. That happened when they took Jason and Lois." At his curious look, she made a face and looked away, uncertain as to the best way to explain herself. "I don't think he would have believed me if I had told him. Jason… did something."

The search for wayward feathers came to an abrupt end as Clark just looked at her, his blue eyes serious. "What happened?"

Trish struggled to put her memory to words, "It was right after they had shot Lois. And Jason too actually, but he didn't pass out right away the way she did, even though he had two darts sticking out of him. My legs were pinned and I couldn't even move." She bit her lip as she remembered how frightened she'd been. "He told me that he was going to help get me out, and then he… he started trying to push the dashboard off of me. Like, to lift it off of me. The… I know this sounds crazy but he was doing it, too. The metal started to bend, and I could the pressure on my legs letting off some…"

Clark turned away from her, lowering his head as he rested one hand on the handle of the thrumming vacuum cleaner.

Trish stared at his back, and asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she witnessed Jason's extraordinary strength, "Clark? Is Jason…"

Before she could finish the sentence, Clark flicked the vacuum cleaner off. The silence in the room was almost deafening after the clamor of the machine. Deliberately, he faced her again and his blue eyes were troubled. "Trish, don't ask me that, please. I can't lie to you, and it's not my place to answer."

The teenager's mouth hung open for a moment, and then the silence was broken by her mom shouting from downstairs, "Pizza's here! Clark, you think you can help Trish make it downstairs?"

"Sure," Clark called back in a higher pitched tenor. "We'll be right down."

Trish began hobbling toward her door, wincing with every step she took as Clark wound the cord around the vacuum and carried it over to leave by the door. His eyebrows drew down with concern at her obvious pain, and he took a step toward her. "Trish?" An outstretched arm voiced the question he did not put to word.

She stared in confusion at his arm for a moment and then nodded as understanding dawned. Before Trish could change her mind, Clark already had lifted her into his arms. Heat radiated from him, and she was struck by the dichotomy of how gently he cradled her to his chest with unyielding arms of steel-lined flesh. Effortlessly he carried her through the doorway and down the stairs into the family room.

"If you drop me, I'll never let you live this down, Clark," she warned him.

He only smiled. "Well, I do have a reputation for being a bit of a klutz..." Trish giggled.

Jamie Mason was setting out some plates on the coffee table. She seemed mildly surprised by the sight of her daughter being carried in by the tall reporter, but gestured in the direction of the sofa, "Clark, you can just et her down on the couch." There was a small prescription bottle next to the three cans of soda on the table. "I know it was about time for those. Your legs must be killing you by now."

Trish had actually all but forgotten the pain in the brief period since he'd picked her up, but as Clark set her down again down, dull throbbing began in what felt like both the muscle and bones of her upper thighs. It hurt far worse now than it had when she had been in the car that morning. "Yes, they are," she admitted as she eased herself down on the couch, using Clark's forearm for support.

Clark regarded her worriedly, pushing his glasses up onto his nose in a quick nervous gesture. "Gee, Trish, maybe you should have taken those earlier before it got so bad."

"Yeah, can't argue with that," she said, and picked up the painkillers.

"Grab a plate and dig in, Clark," Jamie ordered as she lifted the top of the boxes, and they did.

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A/N Part 2. Ok I'm sorry but there just wasn't room for Lex plottage in this chapter! Next chapter we will be checking in on Lois and Jason, I promise! In the 'timeline' of things, they were still unconscious as the events in this chapter took place. Soon, my precious, very soon...


	15. Reap and Sow

A/N It was bound to happen sooner or later. Cathy, as thanks for all your help in writing this, you finally got a very memorable character named after you. Hope you get a good laugh out of it.

To the devoted readers of this story, you lucked out. My daughter was sick and out of school so I didn't have to go to work, which gave me time to crank out new chapter only 48 hours after the previous one came out. Hope this satisfies your evil desires for Lex badness :) Oh and yes, my daughter is all better now, in case you were wondering.

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Chapter 14: Reap and Sow

She was laying unconscious in a hospital bed, electrodes and wires running from her body to machines that beeped at regular intervals accompanied by the soft hiss of the respirator. Her dark hair fanned out around her head like a halo, and her face was relaxed and calm.

Superman was standing there at the foot of the bed holding hands with Jason. They solemnly regarded her with identical expressions of sadness. The hospital room's door was shut. Through the diamond-shaped window, Richard's haggard face worried looked in on a scene that he was a tangible part of, but yet could not participate in at this time.

"Daddy," Jason spoke, peering up at Superman. "Is she going to get better?"

Superman replied, his voice catching in his throat. "I don't know."

"I want her to," Jason said simply, as though that alone were reason enough for a full recovery. His blue eyes shifted back to Lois's unconscious form.

The superhero mustered a tender and loving smile for his son, "So do I." Then together they walked around the edge of the bed, Superman trailing his hand up the cotton blanket until he reached her hand, and clasped it in his own much warmer one.

He leaned down over her as Jason reached up to put his small hand on her head. "We don't know if you can hear us," Superman said, his voice strangely uncertain. "They say that sometimes when people are…" His voice broke and he continued, "that sometimes they can hear you? We don't if you can hear us." Jason caressed her dark wavy hair, and the heat that emanated from his palm was the same temperature as that of Superman's.

The tall hero quietly said, "We wanted to tell you, that…" and he leaned down and whispered into her ear. Only she couldn't hear what he was murmuring, because she was unconscious, which was strange, because she could hear everything else up until that point.

Lois could still hear the beep of the heart monitor. In fact, it sounded as though there were two electrocardiograms in the room with her. The first beeped slow and steady, and the second beeped at a rate half again as fast.

Her nostrils were filled with something resembling 'hospital smell'. No other phrase could describe the unusual scent of disinfectant, medicine, cloth and metal. The barest scent of sawdust also hovered in the air. The cool fabric of starched cotton sheets and the thin gown pressed against her body, and the rancid aftertaste of anesthetics lingered on her tongue and in her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered and the intense white light of the bulbs above glared down at her. She moved her head and regretted that, because it began to throb, while her stomach churned with nausea. A small area on her neck burned as though she'd been stung by a wasp.

The ECG there beeped, showing her heart rate, trailing electrodes that she now realized led to her chest and left arm. Her thoughts still moved sluggishly, and as she watched the green light pulse, pulse, pulse in time with… no. Not in time with all of the beeping she heard. There must be two heart monitors in the room.

Lois turned her head to the right in minute increments, seeking the source of the off tempo beeping. When she saw the bed on the opposite side of the room, everything else ceased to exist except for that small form that lay so still and pale on the white sheets.

"Jason," she moaned, rolling to her side to sit up, yanking electrodes off her chest to toss aside. Lois staggered to her feet and then doubled over, fighting back the urge to retch through sheer force of will. Regaining control of her stomach, she reeled drunkenly over to Jason's side and rested her hand on his forehead. "Jason? Sweetie? Come on, open your eyes for Mommy," she pleaded.

He remained unresponsive, eyes closed and small face peaceful in repose as the electrocardiogram beeped from the other side of the bed. Lois tore her gaze away from his face and stared at the machine. His heart rate hovered at around 100 beats per second, which seemed about normal from what she could remember from the multitude of child care books she had purchased immediately after his birth.

Lois shoved the aside the sheet and simple gown he was clad in, seeking signs of injury while trying not to dislodge the sticky pads holding the electrodes in place on his chest. As she rolled him to his side, she noticed the three red-rimmed circular marks on his back, shoulder and neck. Dazed, she stared at them for a long moment and then lifted her hand to touch that burning spot on her neck.

The door clicked once, and then a second time as the handle turned. A woman dressed in black and a laboratory coat walked into the room, slipping a black lanyard with a name badge and keycard back around her neck before closing the door behind her.

"So you're awake," the woman said brusquely, not sounding pleased at all by Lois' recovery. She was a large woman, not because she was obese, but because of her build. Standing around six feet in height, broad shouldered as any linebacker and almost as well muscled, her grim face was lined with more frown lines than smile lines. If there were eternal optimists in the world, there must also be eternal pessimists as well.

Her black eyes scanned the room and she sniffed, "At least I don't have to clean up any vomit. Until the anesthesia wears off, you'll probably find yourself getting sick to your stomach. If you feel yourself getting ill, the bathroom is right there," she pointed to a small door just beyond Jason's bed. The woman made her way over to Lois's bed and unplugged the heart monitor before winding the cords and electrodes.

Lois found herself taken aback by the woman's cold bedside manner, and turned to settle Jason back in the bed, pulling down his gown to cover his diminutive form and tucking the sheet in around his arms and chest. The ECG still beeped steadily, keeping close track of the boy's heart rate.

After she had pushed the second ECG over to the door, the large woman came over to check on Jason's machine, making minute adjustments to the dials on the opposite side of the bed from Lois. Once done with that, she glanced down at Jason, a hint of revulsion on her face as she said, "He should be waking up any time now. It's no surprise he's still asleep for all that his metabolism works much faster than ours."

Lois smiled with relief, reaching to take Jason's small hand in hers before responding, "Thank you, Nurse…" Her eyes dropped down to the badge and she plucked the woman's name from there, "Battles."

"Nurse?" Cathy Battles' sharp dark eyes jumped from the boy's face to Lois as she laughed without humor. "I'm not a nurse."

"You're not a nurse?" Lois repeated.

This time the woman didn't respond as she left Jason's bedside to walk over to the door, slipping the lanyard back over her head and swiping her keycard through the reader to the left of the door. It unlocked with a click, and she pulled on the handle enough to prop it the heavy door open with one hip as she rolled Lois' ECG machine out in front of her. Cathy Battles informed the reporter, "The doctor will be in shortly."

"Wait?" Lois called out, taking a step toward the door, her hand slightly raised, but it had already swung shut with the 'click' of the lock mechanism. She signed, ignoring the remnants of nausea she still felt and took her first real look around the room.

When Lois had first come to, she immediately assumed she was in a hospital, and the ECGs had helped reinforce that belief. Now as she studied her surroundings, she noticed that the room had no windows. A pair of small but efficient vents helped circulate the air in the room. There were two cameras set up high on the walls in the corners, angled so that they provided visual access to every part of the room. The walls were padded with what seemed to be a strange kind of foam insulation.

A pair of sitting chairs, one large and one child sized, were arranged around the small coffee table had an "Over the Hedge" coloring book, crayons, and blank paper. To her surprise, there was also a small electric keyboard on the lower shelf of the coffee table.

She wandered over to the door the 'Battleaxe', as Lois now thought of the large crabby woman, had gone out through and tried to turn the handle. It was locked, of course. The narrow door leading to the bathroom opened to reveal a typical bathroom, tub, basin, toilet, and a closet that had towels and washcloths as well as clothing. There was also no camera in this room, or at least one she could see.

Lois looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the sink, and as she did she found herself wondering if it were in fact a two way mirror. Nervously, she reached out to tug on one corner of the mirror and then was relieved when it pulled open to reveal a typical bathroom cabinet, complete with toiletries.

Returning to the closet, she flipped through the clothing, glancing out the open door now and again to see if Jason was stirring yet. The wardrobe selection consisted of slacks and simple shirts for the most part, undergarments, a single navy skirt. Child-sized clothing, t-shirts and jeans, were obviously for Jason. There were no shoes and her purse was no where to be found. Wherever they were, someone intended their stay to be longer than a day or two.

Lois hesitated for a moment and then selected a pair of black slacks and an ivory blouse. Closing the bathroom door, she pulled off the hospital gown with a grimace and dressed herself. That alone helped raise her comfort level, she realized as she reopened the door. It was virtually impossible to feel confident and in control when her rear end was hanging out of what was little more than a small cotton sheet tied in place by a string around the neck.

Jason's eyes were open, and he was propping himself up onto his elbows. "Mommy? Daddy?" The boy's voice quavered with fear in the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Jason," Lois cried out in relief, rushing to his side. She gathered him into a hug, which he enthusiastically returned. "Oh baby, are you alright? I was so worried." Her eyes brimmed with tears when she remembered how scared she'd been when she saw him in the bed hooked to the heart monitor.

"I'm okay," Jason assured her, and after a minute or two, began to squirm in her arms the way children do when they feel they've been hugged quite long enough, thank you.

She loosened her grip on the boy and lifted her hands to cup his face, looking into his blue eyes. "How do you feel? Does your stomach feel funny?"

Jason's brow furrowed as he thought that question over, and he shook his head, "No. I feel fine. Well, I do feel a little hungry. Have you got something to eat?" he asked hopefully with a quick glance around.

Lois' own stomach lurched uneasily at mention of food, and she weakly smiled at him. "Not right now honey, but maybe in a little while." That now familiar 'click' came from the direction of the door and she hugged Jason to her chest while she slowly turned to see who it was this time.

A familiar looking slim man with silvery grey hair walked in, followed by the dour looking Cathy Battles. "Ah! Finally awake, I see?" He fumbled with one hand in the pocket of his laboratory coat as he approached Jason, who was cradled in Lois' lap still. "Let me check your eyes," he requested of the boy. He ignored Lois as he brandished a pen light, flicking it on. Leaning forward, he shown it first in Jason's left eye, and then right, before straightening back up with a faint look of surprise on his face. "How long did you say he'd been awake?" the doctor glanced back to ask the Battleaxe, who stood a couple of feet behind him, looking more like a body guard than a, well whatever she was.

Cathy Battles glared at Lois, as if blaming her for the doctor's doubt. "A couple of minutes, Dr. Avaira. I called you the moment his eyes opened."

Lois blinked, suddenly realizing why the doctor looked so familiar. "Dr. Avaira? Elias Avaira?" she stared at the geneticist with astonishment.

"Mrs. Lane," Dr. Avaira returned flatly, his voice filled with acute dislike as he looked at her for the first time. "I'll give you the courtesy of not lying to your face by saying what a pleasure it is to see you again. You ruined my career with your expose."

Her mouth dropped open, and Lois replied in an even tone, "You are the one who was conducting illegal experiments. I only told the truth."

Avaira ground his teeth together, pointedly ignoring Lois again as he then mustered a smile for Jason, who was watching the adults with wariness. "How about we take those electrodes off of your chest, you don't need them anymore, do you?" He reached out toward the boy but Lois blocked his hand by turning her body and shoulder toward him.

"I'll get them," Lois said, settling Jason more on her lap to lift the child's gown and removed the four pads from his chest. "There, that should do it, right munchkin?" He smiled up at her and brushed some of his shaggy hair off of his forehead, but his blue eyes were still worried.

The Battleaxe walked around the bed to unplug the ECG, winding up the cords and electrode lines as she had done with the one that Lois had been attached to a short while earlier.

Dr. Avaira watched Lois and her son as he slipped his pen light back into his lab coat pocket. "Well," he said thoughtfully as he studied Jason, "since you seem to be recovering so quickly, there's no need to wait any longer. I guess we can get started on the testing. Excuse me." He walked back over to the door, using his keycard to unlock and held it open for Cathy as she pushed the ECG out of the room.

Right as the door was swinging closed behind the geneticist, Lois heard muffled voices. Then the door swung open again, and two more people she recognized walked in.

"Lex Luthor," Lois breathed, tightening her grip on Jason as the bald man walked in, with Kitty Kowalski right on his heels, her Pomeranian clutched in her arms.

Lex was dressed impeccably as usual in sleek white pants and shirt, with a navy blue suit jacket. He had a folded newspaper tucked under one arm. Kitty looked as though she had just come in from a night on the town, judging from the slinky red sequined dress she wore.

"Mrs. Lane. And young Mr. White," Lex greeted them with his most charming smile. "I hope you've both recovered fully from the effects of the anesthetic? I know it's not unusual for some to feel some mild nausea after waking up."

"We're both fine," Lois grated out.

"Where's Trish," Jason demanded, a scowl appearing on his face. Lois felt his little body tense, and his fists clenched with anger as he stared up at Lex, "If you hurt her…" With everything else that was going on, the reporter was embarrassed to admit she'd forgotten all about the teenager.

Kitty snuggled Pommy against her face and she smiled at the child. After all, she had nothing to do with all of this.

The barest hint of worry appeared in Lex's hazel eyes as he regarded the little boy. "Ms. Mason is quite well, I can assure you. A few bumps and bruises, a trip to the hospital and they discharged her a few hours later." He withdrew the newspaper and offered it to Lois. "Today's Daily Planet, for your reading enjoyment."

Lois stared at the paper for a moment, and then reached out to snatch it from him, unfolding it enough to read the headlines. "Lois Lane and Son Kidnapped." "Superman Saves Dozens in Indonesia School Collapse." So that's where he'd been. She skimmed the article about her abduction, and sighed with relief as she realized Lex had told the truth about the blonde teen. "Trish is fine, just like he said," she informed Jason, and received a small smile from the little boy in exchange.

"There, see?" Lex said, turning to smile over his shoulder at Kitty. "Everyone is always so suspicious of me…"

Folding up the newspaper again to toss onto the bed, Lois glared at Lex, "I don't know what exactly you have planned, but if you think you can use us for bait to lure Superman into some sort of trap…."

The bald man burst into jovial laughter, shaking his head with disappointment. "Mrs. Lane, once again, you underestimate me. You just never see the big picture, do you?" He turned around, over to the wall and brushed a hand across the insulation. "I hope you enjoy your accommodations. We worked hard to sound proof these lead lined walls to keep away a certain pesky hero in a little red cape," he smirked.

"It's a little smaller than we're used to," Lois said, tilting her chin up. Jason leaned back against her, solemn and observing as usual.

Lex moved over to the coffee table, nudging it with his knee to make the crayons roll a few millimeters. "We've done everything to provide you with the comforts of home. Well, as much as possible, anyway. If you behave, we can even see about hooking a television up in here. There should be plenty to keep your son busy, at least." The bald man knelt down, flipping on the switch to the electric piano and pressing a few keys. He turned and flashed a knowing smile at Jason, "I hear you play a killer piano."

Lois stiffened at that, but Jason remained impassive, his watchful blue eyes following Lex as the bald man turned off the keyboard again and turned to face them.

"No, this time I have something quite different in mind." Lex crossed his arms behind his back as he stared at Jason. "Something that is not just revolutionary, but _evolutionary_."

The door clicked unlocked and Dr. Avaira returned, followed by the Battleaxe who was carrying two long test tube vials. The grey-haired geneticist brimmed with excitement as he pulled on rubber gloves. "We're ready to get started on the samples," he announced, and Cathy glanced at the vials, reading the label before offering one. He unscrewed the lid and pulled out what looked like a long cotton swab with a wooden handle.

Kitty straightened up, observing with fascination, "Wow. Those are just like the ones they use on CSI!"

Lois stared at the swab with confusion, trying to remember details of the few episodes of the crime show she'd managed to watch. "You're taking DNA samples?"

As an answer, Dr. Avaira stopped front of Lois, lifting the cotton swab. "Open your mouth please, this won't hurt in the least."

She hesitated at first, her eyes darting around in search of a way out. But Lois Lane was enough of a realist to know that for now, her options were limited. She opened her mouth and allowed the geneticist to scrap the swab against the inside of her cheek.

Dr. Avaira carefully reinserted the newly collected DNA sample into the test tube, that had a large "P" on it. "Ok, now the F1 vial," he ordered and exchanged vials with his large assistant, Cathy Battles. "Your turn now," he said to Jason with a warm smile.

Jason just stared back at the slim geneticist, until his mother gave him a gentle nudge, "Open your mouth, honey. Just like Mommy did." The child obliged, opening his mouth, and the second DNA sample was taken. Lois' curiosity finally got the better of her, and she inquired, "Wait… why do you need both of our DNA? Why not just… " She darted a quick glance at the top of her son's head, and said in a steady tone, "I mean, why do you need mine?"

Dr. Avaira pulled his latex gloves off with a snap of rubber, his eyebrows raised. "Why? It's basic genetics, Mrs. Lane. I understand you're not a geneticist, so I'll put it in simple terms that even a reporter can understand," he sneered. "All of a child's DNA comes from two equally important sources. The mother and the father. Since we have your DNA, we will just compare it to the sample we took from him. Anything in his chromosomes that doesn't match yours, by the process of elimination, must come from his father."

Lois still was drawing a total blank. "But what do you need his DNA for?" she wondered, her dark eyes shifting from Dr. Avaira to Lex Luthor.

The bald man ducked his head down, tsk-tsking. "Mrs. Lane, you know full well that Jason DNA is unique. Exceptional. Truly remarkable. And you are well aware that your extraordinary son already has some equally extraordinary gifts," Lex said softly, his hazel eyes glinting with excitement and malice as he stared intently at Jason. "Like father, like son."


	16. Pain and Suffering

A/N Big thanks go out to Satiet (without whom Trish would not exist as she is today), Jan, and Cathy for all their help on this chapter. The scene between Richard and Superman was particularly difficult, probably one of the hardest scenes I've done yet in this story. I hope you all approve.

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Chapter 15: Pain and Suffering

The shrieks and howls of pain emanating from the small form were too heartrending for Kitty Kowalski to suffer through even a moment longer. "Turn it off, please," she begged Lex Luthor, who stared at the two video monitors in front of them with something bordering fascination.

"How long has he been going on like that?" Luthor asked as he glanced at Dr. Avaira and Cathy Battles. The two Genetixx employees were seated in front of the screens, notes and papers scattered on the table in front of them.

The slim geneticist glanced at his watch and made a note on the clipboard he held. "Just over two hours now." Dr. Avaira leaned forward slightly and turned down the volume on the television screens that were broadcasting images via the two cameras set up in the room with the little figure on the table. "Pain levels seemed to peak about twenty minutes ago. We're not sure if the body is adjusting or just growing exhausted," he admitted.

Even the sound was no longer there, Kitty still choked back a sob at the torment the small body was still quite obviously suffering as it writhed on the table. She couldn't watch any longer and turned away, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked away from the others to the opposite side of the observation room. Wiping her eyes while trying her best not to obliterate her mascara, the woman tearfully asked Dr. Avaira, "Is… is he going to be all right?"

Lex answered instead, his smile unkind as he continued staring at the monitors. "It's just growing pains." Straightening, he rubbed his chin in thought, realizing, "This is the point at which you lost your other test subjects, the ones from before?"

Dr. Avaira frowned slightly at that question and cleared his throat, acknowledging, "The stresses on the body were too much, and the cellular breakdown occurred on a massive level. We did all we could for them, but really, this is… not something we can make any better. Not given the nature of the process we are using." He darted a quick glance at the hulking woman beside him. "Dr. Battles here is the virologist, Ms. Kowalski, she'd be able to answer your question better than I…"

Battles shrugged as she studied her notes and wrote something down with a pen. "It could go either way. Looks like the worst may be over, which means the cells are adjusting. We'll know soon enough."

Kitty dug into her purse and withdrew a tissue, wiping her nose and face with it as she shakily nodded. "He'll be fine," she whispered, trying to reassure herself, and then her dark eyes fell on Lex. "I don't understand why you had to use him like this. Why couldn't you use a rat, or a mouse, or… something else."

Lex shrugged, asking Kitty, "What do you know about genetics?" As she opened her mouth to respond, he continued without pause, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So you don't know that genetically, canines have far more in common with humans than a mere mouse or rat." He paused and then leaned forward to turn up the volume. Again, pathetic whimpers and howls of agony filled the observation room as Pommy's little red body went through massive changes to his entire cellular structure. Lex smirked at the Pomeranian. "No pain, no gain."

By the Thursday after Lois and Jason had been drugged and taken out of their car, Richard White had reached the bottom of despair. There had been no word from the abductors in that entire time, no calls demanding a ransom, and no real clues that might lead to their whereabouts, despite a hotline that had been established for people to call in tips. It was like they had vanished off the face of the earth. His uncle Perry had convinced him to even go through the ordeal of issuing a public and televised plea for their returned, all to no avail.

From Sunday until Wednesday, there were police and FBI at Richard's waterfront house around the clock, the phones wiretapped in expectation of a ransom call that never came. The last ones left on Wednesday night, giving him sympathetic looks and telling him they were sure it was just a matter of time before the case broke wide open.

Thursday, he wandered around the large house from room to room, unable to sleep, not when the memories of Lois and Jason were everywhere, on every surface. He didn't even want to go to the refrigerator to get food, not when the door was plastered with Jason's colorful crayon art. Of course, he had no appetite, so it made little difference either way.

Clark, Trish, and her parents all showed up that evening to visit Richard for a little while, bringing with them a casserole dish of warm lasagna. The girl still seemed stiff from the accident, but could at least move without wincing with every step. Before they left, Trish rested her hand on his forearm, her dark eyes concerned as she assured him, "You know that Superman is doing everything he can to find them, right?" Clark hovered just behind her, nervously pushing up his glasses, while her parents just watched with their faces filled with compassion.

Richard paused a long moment, evading their eyes before responding, "Yes…" Trish's family finished their goodbyes and walked out to the car.

Clark's taxi arrived, and the tall reporter glanced at it before looking at Richard again. He seemed on the verge of saying something that he just wasn't sure how to put into words. Finally he just said, "If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call, all right?" his blue eyes intent and earnest.

"I will," Richard mustered a smile that came nowhere near close to meeting his eyes. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, probably."

"You will?" Clark asked with surprise, then hastened to add, "I mean, that's good, right?"

Sighing, Richard could only shrug. "Perry asked me if I wanted to come in for a little while." The barest hint of a smile touched his lips as he went on, "To take my mind off of things. It won't, but it'll be better than…" he glanced over his shoulder at the empty house.

The taxi cab driver honked the horn, and Clark jumped in reaction. "Well. I guess I'll get going. See you tomorrow." He gave Richard a slight wave and strode toward the cab.

By the time that sunrise came in Metropolis, Richard had already been at the Daily Planet for almost an hour. He stayed in his office all morning, unwilling to venture out among the other newsroom employees and face al of the sympathetic and pitying expressions. Most of them respected his obvious desire for privacy on his first day at work, though Jimmy, Clark and Trish brought him doughnuts and coffee.

Perry came into his office a little after ten and did his best to cheer up his nephew in his typically gruff way. "Lois is the best of the best, she's been in pretty tight jams before and she always figures a way out. Just like she did on _The Gertrude_. She'll turn up and be waving around the best story this paper has ever seen, I'll bet."

"She's never been gone this long, with no word," Richard pointed out, slumped back in his chair, staring through the class door to his office to where Lois' empty chair was. On her desk, the computer was on and a slideshow of pictures of Jason slowly crawled across the screen. His blue eyes slid further to the right to where Jason would likely be standing if he were there, right beside Trish, whose dark head was bent over the day's edition. Clark happened to be looking right back at Richard and their eyes met briefly before the gangly reporter turned back to his typing.

Perry dodged that statement, instead waving a file folder, "I brought you a couple of things to look over when you get a chance. Maybe we can put them in Saturday's edition." He hesitated, glancing at Lois' desk and said, "Richard. Don't make yourself sick over this. There's nothing you could have done."

As his uncle left the office, Richard stared down at the file folder and suddenly felt suffocated. It wasn't the work, it was everything. The looks, the sympathy, the pity, the meaningless words spoken in an effort to comfort, the fact that the two most important things in his life were _gone_ and no one had a damn clue as to where they were.

Richard got to his feet, striding over to the office door. He yanked it open and found himself staring at a very startled looking Clark, who immediately apologized, pushing up his glasses. "Excuse me," Richard muttered and brushed past the taller man, rubbing his forehead as though he had an intense headache on his way to the elevators. Behind him, Clark watched him walk off, his blue eyes worried and thoughtful.

A few minutes later, Richard found himself on the roof of the Daily Planet, the globe spinning with the quiet rattle of gears and bearings on metal. It was chilly up there, not that he cared enough to feel it. His eyes burned with pain while he fought the urge to break down completely. He took a deep breath, resting his hand on the cold masonry.

A slight breeze ruffled his hair and Richard sensed he was not alone. Closing his eyes, he asked without turning around, "Shouldn't you be saving some convenience store clerk from a petty thief or something?"

The slight scuff of boots on pavement indicated that Superman had landed a short distance away. "Metropolis will get along fine without me for a few minutes," he returned evenly.

"Is that what you said on Sunday, when Lois and Jason were being kidnapped?" Richard whipped around as he spoke, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "They'll be all right, I'll get around to it in a few minutes…"

Superman stiffened, taken aback by the verbal assault. "That's not what happened at all. I was on the other side of the world when they were taken. I didn't even know anything had happened until I got back and saw the ambulance and police lights from the air."

Richard curled his lip, "I thought you could hear everything. Did you just ignore them, while you continued on your merry little way, then?" He knew he was being unfair, but couldn't seem to stop himself.

Superman's face could have been set in stone. "My hearing doesn't work like that." He paused, searching for an analogy that explained his ability, "Imagine you're standing in the middle of a football stadium of screaming people, and trying to listen one person out of the thousands cry out for help. Only on an even larger scale. It takes a lot of concentration to filter out one voice from the many, especially when people in my immediate vicinity are all crying for help, like they were at that school." His expression was sad and regretful as he gave a slight shake of his head, "Besides, even if I had heard them cry out for help, what would you have me do? Drop the little boy with crushed legs and broken arms that I had just pulled out of the rubble? Or the little girl with a hunk of twisted metal sticking out of her abdomen?"

"Yes," Richard answered immediately, and then closed his eyes as he considered the question a moment longer. Was there really a choice? "No. Hell, I don't know." He opened his eyes to regard Superman, and asked quietly, "Would you have, if you'd heard them? Dropped those kids to come help them?"

The caped superhero turned away from Richard and lowered his head, admitting, "I don't know. And I'm glad I didn't have to make that choice."

Richard bit his lip, feeling ashamed of himself for his behavior. "I'm…. I'm sorry. It's just…." Helplessly he lifted one hand before dropping it back to his side as he struggled to put thought to word.

His broad shoulders squared as Superman faced Richard again, "I know. You have to remember, for all my speed and strength and everything else, I can't be two places at once, any more than you can." That last sentence tacitly acknowledged that he knew Richard blamed himself for the kidnapping as much as he blamed the superhero for not being there to rescue them.

A brief nod shook Richard's sandy brown head, and he sighed as the last of his anger melted away. "You're right, of course. It still doesn't stop the 'what ifs', though." He felt chilled all of a sudden, as though his anger had been keeping him warm, and crossed his arms to hold the heat in as he meandered over to the ledge, gazing out over the city of Metropolis. "You've been looking for them?"

"Every chance I get," Superman replied, coming to stand beside Richard. "I look, I listen. It's been more than five days though. They could literally be anywhere." His dark brows furrowed into worried frown, "I think that wherever they are, they definitely being kept in a place where I can't hear them or see them. Like in a lead-lined and sound-proofed room or something. Because if she were just locked in someone's basement or a warehouse, I would have heard her by now."

Richard cast a sidelong glance up at Superman's face and observed, "You love her." It wasn't a question, but a mere statement of fact.

"I love both of them," was Superman's simple reply.

Laughing weakly, Richard nodded his head. "Well, we've got something in common, there."

Superman considered his next words carefully before he gestured at himself, explaining, "Richard, because of who I am and what I can do, it's difficult to have close friends or family. And when I left for five years, I ended up …" He gave a slight shake of his dark head and sighed, "I caused more harm than good and hurt the people I love in the process. I don't know what I expected when I returned, but, as they say, things change. Even things you don't think can change, change." His expression was rueful, and then he sobered as he turned to face Richard. "I want you to know that I am glad that Lois and Jason have always had someone like you around. Dependable and there for them ways that I can't be, even if I wanted to. You're a good man."

Richard was stunned by Superman's words, and just stared at him. He realized that if anyone understood his frustration, his helplessness, his self blame and his overwhelming sense of loss, it was Superman. They had both lost the ones they loved.

Richard returned without bitterness, "'A good man'. I hear that a lot. Good doesn't always mean the better man though, does it?" A long moment of silence passed as they studied each other and wordlessly reached a mutual agreement. "Let's bring them home," he said.

Superman's firm nod sealed the deal, and he gazed back out over Metropolis, "I've been over and over who would be behind this kidnapping and it always comes back to one person." His jaw squared when he finished speaking.

"Lex Luthor. But he was at the police station when the abduction took place, right?" Richard considered that and said, "Then again, what better way to point attention away from himself?"

"Exactly," Superman glanced down at Richard. "Think of Al Capone, and the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre. He was most certainly behind it, but where was he at the time the actual shooting took place?"

Richard blinked at the question, then remembered, "In Florida on vacation, or something like that, so no one could physically link him. Right…" He lowered his head, thinking. "So if Lex took Jason and Lois, he hired someone to do the actual kidnapping. But why? As bait to draw you in?"

Superman's lips twisted wryly at that, "That's what I thought too, at first. He's used Lois like that in the past, but Trish told me the kidnappers specifically said, 'Get the boy, he's the reason we're here.' Jason was the real target, not Lois, because Lex knows that he's my son." His blue eyes were pained.

Nodding, Richard agreed. "That's the real motive then. He wants Jason because he's your son. The real question here is, what does he plan to do with him? I mean, outside of the thing with the piano…" here the sandy-haired man grimaced at that memory, "he's shown no other outward signs of, well of having any of your special abilities, if you know what I mean," his voice trailed off as he realized the superhero was shaking his head.

"That's not true," Superman informed him. "Trish told me that when she was pinned in the car, after Lois had been tranked, Jason tried to help get her out of the car. She said she heard the metal start to bend, that he was lifting the dashboard up off her legs."

Richard was staring at him with surprise, "Trish again? How much have you talked to her? She's never mentioned any of this to me, and the police never said anything about…"

"I've spoken with her a few times since the kidnapping," Superman admitted. "Trying to find out whatever I could that might lead me to them. She said she didn't tell the authorities about Jason because she didn't think they'd believe her anyway, they were having enough trouble with the fact that he had to be hit with three tranquilizer darts before he finally passed out." He paced a few steps away from the other man and then said over his shoulder, "Richard, she definitely knows there's something unusual about Jason."

Richard's mouth hung open a little at that, and he shook his head. "Did you say anything to her?"

"No," Superman immediately responded. "But she started to ask me directly about my relationship to Jason, and I dodged the question. I can't lie, but at the same time, refusing to answer that is as good as a yes. She's a smart girl and she's too perceptive for her own good. You may want to talk to her," he finally advised.

"I'll talk to her. Does Jason know?" Richard inquired, looking at Superman. "Because Lois and I haven't had a chance to bring up his… his true heritage."

"If he does, it's not because I've said anything to him," the superhero replied. "I think he knows there is some kind of connection between us, but as to the exact nature of that connection…" One of his broad shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug as he pointed out, "After all, Jason knows you are his daddy. Would it even occur to him that he really has two fathers?"

"Probably not," Richard allowed after mulling that over.

Superman went on, "Now about Lex, I've flown over his mansion many times over the last few days, searched his house from top to bottom and I can't find anything that links him to Jason or Lois." He frowned, "However, during the times at which I've been called away because of my other duties, I've come back and he hasn't been there at the mansion. I haven't been able to determine where he's going, either, since he leaves and returns while I'm 'on duty', so to speak."

"We'll need to start tailing him, then," Richard decided. "I don't think I can do it by myself, I'll see if I can get Clark or Jimmy to help. I'm sure they'd do anything if they think it might help us get Lois and Jason back."

Superman paused, a smile flickering across his face as he agreed, "I'm sure they would too."

For the first time since Sunday, Richard felt hopeful. "You know, an operation like this, like kidnapping two people and keeping them in a place you would be unable to hear or see through, that'd take a good bit of money. One big rule in international business is you have to follow the money. I wonder how common it is for people to buy lead in large quantities," he mused.

Inclining his head, Superman regarded Richard, "I'm not sure how many commercial uses there are for lead, to be honest."

"Right, but it gives us a starting point," Richard stated as he turned to head for the door leading down from the roof. "I'd better get a move on, I've got a lot of work to do."

"Good luck. I'll let you know if I discover anything worthwhile," Superman said, lifting one arm as he rose into the sky.

"I'll do the same." Richard headed back down to the newsroom, filled with a new purpose.

* * *

"He's alright?" Kitty asked Dr. Avaira worriedly, clutching Pommy to her chest and nuzzling his soft fur with her face. It felt exactly the same as it did before, she thought to herself with relief.

The geneticist shrugged as he made a note on his clipboard. "He's fine. The virus is self limiting, once the cellular DNA has been altered. "

Lex Luthor flicked open his cigar lighter and lit up, puffing a few times before looking down at the long line of monitors in front of him. Each one showed a different angle of another room, one that had five gurneys. Each gurney had one of his hired thugs strapped to it, and all of them were unconscious. For now.

Dr. Avaira's eyes held no small amount of alarm as he watched Lex light his cigar, and he stammered, "Are you sure… Mr. Luthor, I'm really not comfortable with you using that thing in here…"

Lex ignored the gray-haired man, closing his lighter with a snap and pocketing it as virologist Cathy Battles opened the door and walked into the observation room. "You've given them both injections?" he casually inquired, glancing at the large woman.

Battles' expression was disapproving but she nodded anyway. "Yes, though I don't really understand why there's a need for the cort…"

"You don't need to understand why," Lex interrupted, his eyes flinty. "Just as long as it's done." He glanced at the monitors, noting that two of the figures were starting to stir. "They're waking up…." Immediately, Dr. Avaira and Dr. Battles turned to watch.

As Kitty moved around behind Lex for a better view, Pommy squirmed a single time, and that was all the effort it took for the little dog to wiggle out of her arms and drop to the floor. He gave himself a single shake and began sniffing around on the floor. Kitty stared in disbelief as the fluffy red dog ambled over to Lex, sniffed the bald man's shoe once and hoisted his leg.

The distinct and acrid smell of urine filled the room, and Lex looked down at the tiny ball of fur. "Why you little…" he drew back his wet foot to give the dog a much-deserved kick.

Right before he swung, Dr. Avaira's surprisingly firm grasp came down on his arm, nearly knocking him off balance. "Don't," the geneticist warned. Lex glared at him with fury as the doctor reached over to flick a switch on monitor. The image on screen changed from the gurney-filled room to another room, one that was quite clearly a laboratory room of some sort-a lab room with a twisted and mangled steel cage in the middle of it. The camera zoomed in to show the metal was indented and punctured with clear bite impressions from a Pomeranian sized jaw.

Lex stared down at the dog incredulously, and Pommy wagged his tail in response before trotting over to Kitty. He danced on his hind legs, begging to be picked up, and after a moment's hesitation, the dark haired woman bent down. She snuggled him close to her again, and earned a few doggy kisses for her affections.

Suddenly the little Pomeranian's ears pricked and his bright dark eyes peered curious down in the direction of one of the monitors. Over the speakers came the first pained moans of transformation from the 'volunteers'. Within a few minutes, those low cries had escalated into shrieks of agony, incoherent babbling and pleading. And this was just the beginning of their long torturous ordeal.

Lex was expressionless and flipped the lighter open and shut over and over again. "No pain, no gain."


	17. Hide and Seek

A/N Well I was in a writing funk for a few days, and then once things got going this chapter went fast. Again, although this chapter would have been possible, I suspect it wouldn't have been nearly as good without the input of Jan, Cathy and Lachesis Benton. You guys are my idea bouncing rocks. Oh and you rock too, so that works out perfectly!

* * *

Chapter 16: Hide and Seek

When Richard returned to the newsroom, Trish was not the only one to notice that his mood had altered drastically from the dejected and spiritless man that had walked out less than thirty minutes earlier. Voices quieted as he passed, and she knew that her face was not the only one showing signs of relief.

Trish glanced at Clark, who had settled back into his own chair a few moments before Richard's reappearance and was typing up the rest of a report with due diligence. After five days, she finally felt like she had some semblance of control over her awe and admiration for the quiet and gentle man who it ended up was world's greatest and best known superhero. One of her slim blonde eyebrows rose as she asked under her breath, "What'd you say to him?"

His blue eyes held a hint of surprise as they met hers, "What makes you think I said anything to him?" Clark responded and hit enter on his keyboard one last time, completing his document.

The teenager rolled her eyes. "Come on, Clark. This is me." Trish lowered her voice to the barest whisper as she flipped through a few of the papers at her work station, knowing he could hear. "I saw you watch him leave, and then two seconds later you left too. If you didn't say anything to him, someone else did, and I think we both know who that was…"

Clark hesitated, watching as Richard went into his office and the noise level in the newsroom returned to its normal raucous level. "Richard is a man of action. Like me. The waiting and wondering what has happened to them is the worst part of this. We both have reached the same conclusion, that one person is responsible for their disappearance."

"Lex Luthor," Trish said flatly, all traces of humor gone from her voice.

"Exactly." Clark adjusted his glasses and opened the Google search engine. "So now we have a starting point to begin tracking them down." He typed 'Lex Luthor' into the window and hit enter, and his brow drew down into a frown at the number of results. "How can this guy be so popular?"

Trish grinned suddenly, getting to her feet with a slight wince and coming to stand beside him. "Let me show you something…" she said as she edged into his space and typed 'Superman' out on his keyboard and hit enter. A massive number of hits came up, and she straightened back, smirking at his startled expression. "See? You get ten times as many hits for Superman as you do for Lex. Most of the Lex ones probably lead to Superman fansites and articles in fact."

Clark skimmed a few of the site descriptions. "Fansites..? What's this one? 'Superfic: The Internet's largest source of Superman fanfiction'," he read out loud, then clicked on the link. "What's fanfiction?"

"Oh boy, I really don't think you want to go there," Trish warned, "unless you want to be really embarrassed. That's where people, usually women, have made up stories about ah, about Superman. Usually fantasies. If you know what I mean." Her left hand gestured in the air as she gave him a significant look.

"Excuse me," a deep voice came from behind them. Startled, Trish and Clark both jumped, glancing back at Richard, whose gaze was focused on Clark's monitor. "If you two aren't too busy with your research…" he said pointedly as he looked between the two, "I'd appreciate it if you could both come to my office for a moment."

Trish blinked, saying, "Sure, Mr. White," as she slanted a glance down at Clark, who closed the web browser with quick click of the mouse.

"Of course, Richard," Clark said and nervously pushed his glasses up onto his nose as he stood to his feet.

Richard gave a brief nod and led them toward his office, where Jimmy was already waiting. The younger man gave Clark and Trish quick smiles, but his dark eyes hinted of worry. "Trish, why don't you sit down here," Olsen suggested, standing beside the only 'guest' chair in the room. "I bet your legs are still really sore."

"They still ache a little if I move around too much," Trish allowed ruefully and lowered herself into the leather chair. "Thanks, Jimmy," she favored him with a warm smile, then glanced at Clark as he pulled the door to the office closed.

Richard was already behind his desk, staring down at a picture of Jason, Lois and himself. Pensive, he reached out and brushed a finger across the frame, and then determination filled his expression. "I've just returned from having a talk with Superman about Lois and Jason," he announced, and then paused as he looked at the three people in front of him.

This was no news to either Clark or Trish, of course. Trish gave the editor a blank stare at first, wondering what the pause was for, and then she realized. The natural response Richard expected from them was surprise and questions. After all, people didn't just go off and have chats with Superman, as she well knew. Luckily Jimmy took up the slack.

"You did? Just now?" Jimmy replied eagerly, his eyes lighting up. "Has he had any luck finding them?"

Clark ducked his head and he asked, "What'd he have to say? Has he found Lois and Jason?"

Trish did her best not to look at Clark, instead keeping her eyes focused on Richard's face while she awaited his response.

"No, he hasn't found them yet, though he tells me he is constantly looking for any signs that might point to where they are" Richard admitted, a frown darkening his brow. "But we both agreed as to who was most certainly behind their disappearance."

"Lex Luthor," Trish and Jimmy immediately chimed in unison, and then grinned at each other.

"Lex Luthor," Clark said a moment later, his voice slow and deliberate and his expression thoughtful.

"Jimmy." The brown haired young man started as Richard spoke, "Superman said that he's having trouble tracking Lex and his bimbo. Apparently, they wait until they hear live news that he's helping with some disaster or accident or whatever, and time their arrivals and departures accordingly. So they're probably going somewhere specific, but he hasn't been able to tell where."

Jimmy nodded understanding, "So you want me to tail them. Sure thing. I'll take my camera, maybe I can some up with some good pics as well."

Next, Richard turned his attention to Clark, who adjusted his glasses with anticipation. "Clark, I know you're an excellent investigative reporter. Find out everything you can about lead ore. It's the only substance Superman can't see through, so more than likely, Jason and Lois are being kept in a room that's surrounded by it."

Clark nodded, his dark hair flopping down onto his forehead. "Right. It'd have to be purchased in sheet form, right? To form a wall with?"

Trish interjected, "That would work, and yet it wouldn't. We are studying the most common metals in my chemistry class, and lead is very soft. Our teacher brought some of those lead weights, like the ones people use to fish with? I could make marks in it with my fingernails. There's no way you could just make a lead wall, unless it was really really thick. And a lead ceiling would be virtually impossible to support by normal means. How thick do you think the lead would have to be so that Superman couldn't see through it?" She darted an inquisitive look at Clark as she asked that question. The tall reporter didn't respond.

Richard sat down in his chair, rubbing his chin, "Well, Lois just said that he couldn't see through lead. Let's operate under the assumption that as long as is it's thicker than a sheet of paper, he's not going to be able to see through it."

Clark nodded, "That sounds pretty reasonable. Not so thick as to be completely unwieldy, but unrealistically thin either."

"Hey, not sure if you guys know this," Trish mentioned, lifting her hand as though she were in one of her high school classes, "lead can be poisonous, especially to children." The three men stared back at her. "What, you've never heard of lead poisoning? I think it takes prolonged direct contact to poison, though…" she added dubiously, and her expression cleared as she remembered, "Most lead poisoning seems to come from ingesting it, that's why it was outlawed in paint and stuff. Cause kids were swallowing paint chips or something like that." As Clark nodded with approval at her knowledge, she flushed slightly. "I actually was awake that day or something. Usually chemistry bores me to tears."

"So how would you use lead to wall a room, if it's too soft to stand up on its own?" Jimmy asked slowly, looking from Trish to Richard.

"Frame it," Richard said after a moment's thought. "Like, between sheets of plywood, or something like that. That'd protect you from direct contact with the metal itself and yet provide a strong support."

"Well," Clark scratched his head, "that'd at least narrow things down. So we need to focus on whose buying sheet lead. And not just blocks of ore, I guess? I'll do some research and make some phone calls. See if any suppliers have made any major or unusual sales in the past few weeks, since that's how long it's been since Superman got back."

"Sounds great," Richard stated, a smile appearing on his face when he met Clark's eyes. "I'll let you and Jimmy get started on that, but first I'd like to have a few moments with Trish."

"Oh sure," Jimmy said, and headed to the door. "I'll start my stakeout right away," he informed the others as he went out.

Clark followed Jimmy out of the room, glancing back to give Trish a crooked smile. He pulled the door closed behind him when he left.

As Trish watched the two men leave, she couldn't help the wave of nervousness she felt. She turned her head to look at Richard across the desk, a worried expression on her face.

"Trish," Richard addressed the blonde teenager, his blue eyes softening as he regarded her. "I know you've probably been over this about a thousand times with the FBI and the Metropolis PD, and I hope you don't mind. But I want you to go over every single thing you can remember about from the moment you got in the car with Lois until the EMTs arrived." He hesitated a moment, then added, "Superman told me that, well that there were some things you witnessed that you didn't mention to the authorities."

Trish's mouth formed an 'O' of understanding, and she took a deep breath. "I was wondering if he mentioned that." Knitting her fingers in her lap as she thought back, remembering the events as clear as if it'd happened a few hours ago instead of almost five days. It occurred to her that for all the times she'd repeated the tale, she'd never once relayed it, even in abridged form, to Richard. She should have said something to him long before now, she realized.

Exhaling, the girl began. "Lois and I were talking about a new article Clark and I were working on, on urban renewal in Hobb's Bay…"

It took longer to relate her experience than she had expected, especially since she now included Jason's extraordinary feat of strength and her surprise and awe at his brief demonstration. Richard remained impassive for the most part through the retelling, the lone exception being the part where Lois was shot, and how Trish had initially thought the woman had been killed right in front of her and Jason. At that point, he stiffened and drew in a quick breath, his expression conveying a complex mixture of pain, sympathy and worry.

Trish massaged her bruised thighs when she finished up with a sigh, "…and the next thing I knew, I heard my dad's voice and felt someone shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes, and the EMTs were already there. Along with my dad, I mean."

Richard threw one arm over his head, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He was silent for a long time, until Trish began to squirm with anxiety. He opened his eyes again, studying the girl in front of him as he carefully considered his next words. "Have you told anyone else about Jason? About what he did?"

He had taken so long to respond, Trish was actually expecting that question, and decided to go the way of truth. "I … I told Clark about it," she confessed, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the tall reporter's desk. "I'm sorry, but… I halfway thought I was dreaming when it happened, you know? I mean with everything else that was going on…"

"You told Clark." Richard didn't appear to know how to take that at first. "Is he the only one? You haven't told your parents, or Jimmy or any friends?"

Trish shook her head. "Just Clark. Well, and Superman, of course." That was a given.

Richard heaved a sigh filled with both resignation and relief. "I'll just have to talk with Clark too,then," he mustered a tiny smile and regarded Trish across his desk. "I guess it goes without saying that the fewer people who know about Jason's… gifts… the better. We, well Superman and I, are coming to believe it's the reason that he and Lois were abducted in the first place. Lex knew about Jason's… unique heritage."

Trish's eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the implications of that statement. Superman had as much as verified the nature of his relationship to Jason by dodging her question, but hearing it confirmed was beyond strange. She had about a gazillion questions to ask and yet at the same time, felt it'd be inappropriate for her to ask a single one. Clearing her throat, she managed an intelligent response, "If Lex knew, then you think he's got something more devious in mind than merely using them for bait, don't you."

Nodding, Richard rotated his chair to stare out the window. "Yes. His plan is too complex to be anything else. We'd have seen or heard something by now if it were that simple. We don't know what's going on, but the sooner we find them, the better." His gaze was shuttered and he faced her again, awaiting her response.

Straightening in the leather chair, Trish met Richard's eyes and stated firmly, "Jason is like a little brother to me. I'd never do anything that might cause him harm, and I won't tell anyone else about what I saw."

Richard studied her expression, and then gave a nod accompanied by a simple, "Thank you." The man got to his feet and walked around the edge of his desk, gesturing for her to stand. "If you could tell Clark to come in here, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure thing, Mr. White," Trish replied, getting to her feet.

"Richard," the man said insistently with a little smile. "You say Mr. White and I start looking around for my uncle."

Trish laughed, "Sorry, Richard," and paused with her hand on the door, sobering. "You know we'll find them, right?"

Richard nodded with considerably more confidence than he had shown the last time she had said almost the same thing less than twenty four hours earlier. "Yes, I know we will. Thanks, Trish."

The girl was satisfied with his response, and headed out into the newsroom, returning to her chair near Clark's work area. "Richard wanted to talk to you," she told him as nonchalantly as possible.

Clark avoided meeting her eyes. "Thanks," he responded and rose to his feet, walking toward the other man's office.

Trish watched him go before glancing at his computer screen, on which an article on lead manufacturing was displayed. Scooting from her chair to his, she settled in to read.

By that afternoon, Trish's head felt stuffed with all the information she had read about lead and Lex Luthor. She had no idea it was used in everything from car batteries to ammunition to construction materials. It was even a component of colored glazes and glass.

As far as Lex Luthor was concerned, the more she read about him, the less she wanted to know. Despite the fact that he'd been linked to multiple illegal activities over the years, he'd had never been jailed for longer than 5 years. It was mind boggling. Hard evidence had a way of disappearing when it came to prosecuting him. _I guess crime does pay for some people_, Trish thought glumly to herself as she clicked another link.

Clark had alternated between the computer and the phone all afternoon, talking with refiners and suppliers about who was using lead and to what purpose. Then he'd spend time verifying details on the internet. He had a knack for knowing the right question to ask, and when used in conjunction with his natural politeness, he always seemed to end up talking to the right person who had the information he was seeking.

Trish found herself halfway listening in on yet another one of his calls, and rested her chin on her hand as she randomly clicked links extolling the genius of Lex Luthor.

"Uh-huh," Clark said into receiver, making a note on his pad. "So they purchased how much of it?... Gee whiz… that's a lot, even considering the fact that it's far more dense than most metals. How long ago... And that company is owned by… You know, somehow I knew you'd say that… Yes sir… Thank you very much, Mr. Markham, I appreciate it." He replaced the phone on the base with a click and stared at it for a long moment.

"Well?" Trish stretched in her chair, stifling a yawn as she did. It had been a long day. "So what's the verdict? Is this hopeless or what?"

"Hmm?" Clark said, giving her a distracted look before he adjusted his glasses.

Trish tapped his notes with her fingertip, "What'd you find out? Anything worthwhile?"

Clark frowned down at his notes. "Yes, I found out a lot of stuff, but I'm not sure what it means, or even if it's relevant…"

"Well, spill the beans," Trish said impatiently.

"Ok, look at this." Clark spread the notes out on his desk. "To start off with, I figure that since Lex is behind this, the lead must be purchased by a privately owned company. So that weeded out the military and its subsidiaries, and really helped narrow things down."

"I bet it did," Trish mused. "Lead in munitions is one of the major uses of lead."

Clark nodded, "Exactly. Now look at this. I know most of this stuff dates back to purchases made within the past year, but…. Well here, just look at these." He collected the papers and passed them to Trish.

Trish raised an eyebrow and she took the sheaf of notes. She skimmed the first one, and her eyebrows arced higher at the circled name at the bottom of the first page. "Wayne Medical?"

"Look at the others," Clark ordered, pushing up his glasses before brushing his hair to the side with his fingers.

"Wayne Biotech?" Trish read the name off the second page, and then began sifting through the others. "Wayne Pharmaceuticals… Wayne Chemicals… Wayne Technologies… Wayne Healthcare… Wayne Steel… The Wayne Foundation…Geez, how many branches are there of that company, anyway?"

"A lot," Clark replied with a frown. "All of these branches owned by the larger parent company, Wayne Enterprises, based out of Gotham City."

Trish wrinkled her nose, "Gotham. I've heard if Metropolis is New York City during the day, then Gotham is the city at night, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't meant in a flattering way."

"Gotham City has had more than it's share of corruption over the years. And Wayne Enterprises has been around for a very long time," Clark rocked back in his chair, his blue eyes focused on the notes that Trish held.

"Well, be as that may, I've never heard anything bad about Wayne Enterprises," Trish reminded Clark. "In fact, my economics teacher says that if it weren't for that company, Gotham's economy would have collapsed a long time ago, especially during that depression back in the late 70s and early 80s. Wayne Enterprises is one of the few good things about Gotham City. And since they own the Daily Planet, you'd think someone here would have known if.…"

"Wait, wait," Clark interrupted, surprise etched on his face. "Wayne Enterprises owns the Daily Planet? Since when?"

Blinking at the question, Trish thought back, "Oh, I don't know… a couple of years? While you were gone off to… explore the world." She was careful to keep her expression blank when she relayed that. "I only remember because it was all over the news."

"Well, about a year ago," Clark thoughtfully said, holding his hand out for the notes, "the company went public with its stock. A lot of the shares went to foundations, charitable organizations, brokerages, that kind of thing. Lex would have had Gertrude well under his thumb at that time, even though he was still in prison."

Trish thought that over, "And you think maybe he encouraged her to buy up shares of Wayne Enterprises?"

"Well, the Vanderworth name is well known here in Metropolis," Clark observed. "And the Vanderworths were very very wealthy. It's estimated that Lex inherited hundreds of millions of dollars when Gertrude passed away, and a lot of that money is in the holdings of the Vanderworth Foundation."

"But…" Trish shook her head, "you said that the shares went public a year ago, that was long before Superman returned. The timing seems way off. Unless Lex was planning way ahead and knew you'd… I mean, that he'd return. Superman, that is."

Sighing, Clark conceded, "That is one of the problems with this. Wayne Enterprises got a new CEO right after the public stock offering, a…" He flipped through the papers and pulled out one, "Ah, here we go. Lucius Fox. Apparently when he took over, he began steering the company, and by default, it's branches, in a new direction, and that's when all these lead purchases increased."

"Talk about being prepared, though. Still, Gotham City definitely sounds like Lex's kind of town. Crime and corruption galore." Trish ran fingers through her hair and looked at Clark. "Bruce Wayne is still the controlling shareholder, as I recall. You remember that he went missing for a long time, right? Something like seven years, maybe longer. He was even declared officially dead."

Clark nodded, "Yes, he'd been gone for a few years before I went, uh, on that extended vacation. I know he's alive and well though, I read some back issues of the Daily Planet and it was all over the news. He seems like quite the playboy," he said disapprovingly. "I don't know that he has anything to do with the actual running of the company, most men like him would probably prefer not to dirty their hands dealing with such details. Of course news of his return was pushed to the back pages when Batman hit the scene, from what I saw."

"He's cute." Clark gave her an odd look at that pronouncement, and Trish laughed, explaining, "I mean Bruce Wayne, not Batman. A guy with a name like Batman probably looks like he fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down." The teenager peered at him from under a wisp of blonde hair, and wondered, "What do you think of Batman, anyway?"

"Well," the tall reporter began slowly, "To start off with, I viewed him as some kind of vigilante, who was obviously a few bricks shy of a load, if you know what I mean. But I can't deny that he's had a lot to do with exposing corruption within the city's leadership, for all of his … unusual methods. He hasn't actually killed anyone that I've heard of, that's an obvious plus for him. So I think he's helping," Clark concluded.

"But Wayne Enterprises?" Trish prompted. "You going to check it out?"

"I'm definitely going to check it out," Clark stated.


	18. Chaos and Order

A/N Woo! This is payoff for those of you who have been waiting for Lex to get down and dirty. Evil's afoot! I had a boatload of help with this chapter since there were two critical scenes. As such, it would not have been possible (or half as good!) without the help of Lachesis Benton, Pearl, and Cathy. Thank you sooo much for continuing to provide support, suggestions, and most importantly, being there when I have been desperate to bounce a particular thought or idea off of someone. I really hope I'm not driving you guys crazy... Anyway, enjoy.

PS. For you Batman purists out there, this message is for you. I am ONLY drawing from the mythos created in the Batman Begins movie. Not from the comic, not from the previous movies and not from the animated tv show. To me, the character in the movie was no where near as embittered and disillusioned as the comic book character. As such, I am basing his reactions off of my personal interpretation of how their first meeting would go. So if you are getting your knickers in a knot, please keep that in mind.

Chapter 17: Chaos and Order

Dr. Avaira nodded approvingly as he made a note on his clipboard, pulling the stethoscope away from Nicholas Palmer's chest. "Perfectly normal," he announced, taking a step back and gazing at the five men in front of him.

Nicky scowled, watching as technicians pushed the ECGs that had been hooked up to them through the transformation process out of the room. "What I want to know, Doc, is why you didn't tell us it'd hurt so much?" he growled at, glaring at the slim geneticist.

The tattooed Hispanic man at his side grimly added, "Or that it would take so long. You said it would take a couple of hours and then it'd be all over with." The multiple piercings on Diego Hernandez's face made him appear even more fierce. "That took way longer than hours."

"Yeah, how long were we out, anyway?" Medford Galloway asked. He was a quiet blond-haired Caucasian man of average height and build, with the flat grey eyes of a serial killer.

"Almost forty-eight hours," Lex Luthor answered as he entered the room. Kitty followed a step behind, cuddling a dozing Pommy to her chin. "You've showered and been examined, how bout some clean clothes?" His tone was amiable, even friendly as he gestured back to where virologist Cathy Battles was walking in. The hulking woman bore cloth satchels, each marked with a different name, and went down the line, handing each man his sack of clothing.

Dr. Avaira rubbed his brow and stuttering, explained, "We had no idea that the transformation would take so long. The dog showed evidence of some… ah, discomfort," the man's eyes darted away evasively at the lie, "but it was over with after three or four hours."

Cathy Battles grunted, "The dog also weighs less than six pounds. As all of you are significantly larger than the canine, it took longer for the virus to reach and alter all of your cells." She made her way over to a small medical tray, picking up a syringe. The needle was bent over double. "Obviously the experiment has been a success in many regards."

Cedric pulled his t-shirt over his head and asked the question all five of the men had been wondering since the transformation process had come to an end. "So which of his powers do we have? Besides invulnerability," he added, pointing at the bent-needled syringe Battles held.

Nicky interjected, "And when can we start with the ass-kicking?" as he buttoned his jeans, a vicious smile on his face.

"Theoretically," Dr. Avaira responded, "you should have all of his powers with the exception of the heat vision and the hearing." He glanced at Lex before continuing, "It was decided that those two had too high of a learning curve when it came to training and control."

Tony Milan, who was the only test subject that had yet to speak, looked up from lacing up his boots. "Training and control?" he repeated in his bass voice.

"Training and control," Lex reaffirmed, and then smiled. "Gentlemen, and I use that term very loosely, it's time for school. Follow me."

A few minutes later Lex was opening the door to a large room that gaped cavernously in front of them. The bald man turned to his right, flipping on a series of switches that illuminated the Genetixx company indoor gymnasium. "Welcome to Lex Luthor's School for the Gifted," he smirked, walking into the middle of the basketball court. Two large canvas ball bins were there filled to nearly overflowing with footballs, soccer balls and basketballs. Lex leaned over, picking up a bucket that rattled with brand new baseballs from the hardwood floor between the bins.

Kitty, Battles, and Dr. Avaira made their way to the low rise of bleachers on the side of the basketball court, watching as the five thugs surrounded Lex in a loose circle in center court.

"What is this, gym class?" Nicky snidely asked.

Lex tossed him a baseball. "Exactly. I've considered many options and I've deduced that sports training, throwing, running, and jumping will be the simplest and easiest way for you to learn to control the basics of your new skills. With this," he held up a basketball, "you can truly learn the meaning of 'hang time'." He dropped the basketball back into a bin before reaching into the bucket. After handing out the baseballs to the other four men, he lowered the bucket to the ground and looked at them. "Haven't you ever felt a baseball in your hand and wondered what it'd feel like to crush it? Well, now you can."

The five men exchanged quick looks with each other, and then Galloway took the initiative, palming the baseball. He stared at it for a moment, and then tightened his grip around the baseball. It crumpled in his hand, turning into a mass of leather, string, cork and rubber. The remnants of the ball dropped to the floor, and a moment later were joined by four identically crumpled baseballs.

Kitty chewed her lip at the demonstrations, scratching Pommy's neck while the little dog napped, his nose nestled against the crook of her elbow.

"That is a tiny example of how much strength you now possess," Lex smiled at them, his hazel eyes gleaming in the light of the gymnasium. "I mean, think of it, you carry the genes of the man who's so strong he lifted an entire island into space." The smile faded into bitter anger, "After he'd been stabbed with kryptonite. Such strength, the strength of a god! But first you have to learn how to use it. And Superman's had his entire life to practice the use of his gifts. You five are about to get a crash course."

They were all quiet for a moment, then Nicky straightened, cockily asking as he walked over to reach into the bucket and withdrew another baseball, "Well, my question then, is, why do you think you're the one who's going to teach us?" The stocky man tossed the ball in the air from one hand to the other, "I mean, I'm thinking that since we got all this strength, all this power, why do we have to keep taking orders from someone who I could kill just as easily as I can crush this baseball?" The baseball gave a quiet gasp as it gave way under the force of his fingers, the twine inside dribbling down out of his hand.

Lex glowered at Nicky as he gritted out, "Because if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have those powers. You'd be nothing but another dead end bouncer at Jabber's Bar down on 5th and Main, earning $9.25 an hour to keep the frat boys from Metropolis University in line."

Diego shifted to stand behind Nicky, a pierced eyebrow rising as he crossed his tattooed arms over his chest, assuming a tough guy stance. "Yeah, but we don't really need your money or support anymore, do we? I mean, there's nothing to stop us from knocking over a bank or armored car or even Fort Knox if we wanted to. What do we need you for, then?" His lip curled as he met Lex's eyes.

"Superman would be there to stop us," Galloway reminded them, his grey eyes wary. "Right now, we're little more than wrecking balls. We have his powers, but lack the skill to stand up to him and defeat him once and for all." The other two men nodded agreement.

Nicky thrust out his chest, strutting over to the bucket again to select another baseball. "He'd have to catch us first, right? I mean, no way he could take on all five of us at once, we'd beat him easy." Without warning, he whipped around to throw the ball at the gymnasium wall, where it crunched loudly against the concrete and left an indentation more than eight inches deep. "Either way, I'm sick and tired of taking orders from this bald bastard."

Startled by the noise, Pommy woke up and started barking with that loud high pitched yap so typical of small dogs. "Shh, shhh," Kitty whispered in a soothing voice, trying to calm the small animal, her dark eyes large and worried. She glanced at the man and woman on the bleacher with her, but Dr. Avaira and Cathy Battles were both writing on their note pads.

"Do you think he'll…" Battles started to ask, but fell silent at the look Avaira gave her.

"Quiet," he ordered, tugging on the lapel of his white lab coat.

Lex Luthor was unimpressed by the demonstration of strength and ability. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar, biting off one end and spitting it to the side. A moment later, he withdrew the slim lighter, palming it as he met Nicky's glare. "I'll have you know my parents were very much married when I was born, thank you," he said nonchalantly. "Hm. Well, Nicky, you've given me little choice. I guess I'll have to drop you from the team." He flicked opened the lighter and lit up, puffing a few times.

A smug smile spread across Nicky's face as he sensed his threat had worked. Opening his mouth to respond, the stocky man's body suddenly went stiff and then he gasped.

"Nicky?" Diego prompted, and as the stocky man turned around to face him, he recoiled with horror. "Holy…."

Nicky's hands lifted, his fingers curling into talons that clawed at the skin of his face. Blood, so dark it was almost black, began to seep from his eyes, his nose, and his ears. A keening sound came from the gaping mouth that was swallowed up in the gurgle of fluid. He convulsed and fell to the floor.

Lex's gaze was merciless as he watched Nicky writhe in agony in front of him. "Did you really think that I'd give you super powers, without having a means to control you, you short-sighted parasite?" he inquired in an even tone. "I knew you'd be the one too, the one I'd have to use for an object demonstration. A little lesson, if you will, at my school for the gifted."

Pommy's barking became even more frantic, and Kitty closed her eyes, burying her face into the dog's soft fur. Dr. Avaira and Battles were still writing furiously on their notepads, recording the events in the name of science.

Diego staggered back a step, still in shock at the sight in front of him. "What'd you do to him!" he demanded, his eyes wild as he looked up at Lex. The other three thugs watched in silence, their faces carefully blank.

Putting his cigar to his lips, Lex knelt down over the stocky man's dying body, taking a deep draw and blowing the smoke out slowly into the ruined face. "Sorry Nicky, I think class is dismissed for you." He heaved a long sigh as he straightened back up to gaze at the four remaining test subjects. "I hate when people underestimate me." A slight smile curved his lips and he held the cigar between his teeth as he picked up a basketball and tossed it at Tony. "Now then, back to training. School's in session."

Clark and Trish spent the rest of that Friday afternoon reading up on the many branches of Wayne Enterprises. The multibillion dollar company was a major global power, having joint ventures with other equally large companies and dozens of government contracts.

At the same time, Trish had been right about the company's overall reputation. In the past, many similarly large and highly profitable companies had eventually crumbled under the weight of their own success, but Wayne Enterprises had been going strong for more than a hundred years. The company was well known its fair and equitable business practices when dealing with employees and competitors. On the outside, Wayne Enterprises just didn't seem like a company that would be willing to associate with someone like Lex Luthor in any way, shape or form.

Still, given their increase in lead ore purchases in the past year, Clark felt the company was worth checking into. With the lives of both Lois and Jason potentially at risk, he couldn't afford not to.

It was just after six in the evening, and most of the Daily Planet employees were already making their way out of the newsroom when Clark and Trish decided to call it a day. The blonde girl watched him as he sorted through his notes. "So when are you going?" An arced eyebrow indicated she was talking about something other than leaving work.

"Late tonight. Or early this morning," Clark answered, picking up his briefcase. "There won't be many employees there at that time so paperwork will be easier to read, and I wouldn't be comfortable with being seen." He slipped the file folder containing his notes and his notepad into the leather satchel and snapped it shut. As he stood up to put on his overcoat, the phone rang.

Trish had her own light jacket on, already prepared to head out. "I'll get it," she offered, and picked up the phone. "Daily Planet, may I help you?" Her eyes shifted immediately to Clark as she listened, "Yes, he's right here. Just a moment…" Using her free hand to cover the receiver, she informed him with a grin, "It's your mom."

Clark grinned and accepted the phone, "Hi Mom, how's Montana?"

Martha Kent's warm voice responded, "Cold, and it's not even the middle of October yet. My arthritis is already beginning to act up," she complained good naturedly. "Ben's out feeding the animals in the barn. I'm sorry I missed your phone call earlier this week. We're still getting settled in, and had to go to the hardware store."

"It's alright," Clark smiled, slowly sinking back down into his chair. "I keep forgetting that you're two time zones away now, instead of just one, and that isn't helping matters any."

Trish glanced at her watch and motioned toward the elevators to indicate that she had to leave. Clark nodded, mouthing, 'Goodnight,' as the girl shouldered her backpack and headed off toward the elevators.

"We do seem to keep missing each other, don't we?" his mother replied, her voice holding a hint of regret. "You're still feeling all right, though? After your… illness."

"Yes, I am one hundred percent back to normal." A slight touch of humor curved Clark's lips at his mother's subtle reference to his brief stay at Metropolis General Hospital.

"Has there been any word on Mrs. Lane or her little boy?" Martha inquired. "They haven't said anything on the news here, but then again, we are quite a distance away from the city."

Closing his eyes, Clark rocked back into his chair before he answered, "No. Nothing yet. We've ….. got a few good leads we're trying to track down, we'll see where they go." A pause ensued and clearing his throat, he said, "Look Mom, I… we really need to talk. It's… ah, not something we really should talk about over the phone though."

That was supreme understatement. It'd been almost a month since he found out Jason was his son, and he still had yet to tell his mother. In a way, there just hadn't been much opportunity to do so, with the move to Montana, her close relationship with Ben Hubbard, and the fact that he was no longer able to just drop by without notice. They made efforts to keep in touch by phone, but some conversations weren't suitable for having via telephone, and this happened to be one of them.

Martha immediately caught his serious tone. "We've got quite a busy weekend ahead of us, but I think Ben mentioned he wanted to go bowling with some friends on Tuesday after supper. Perhaps I'll just spend a nice quiet evening at home reading."

"That sounds very relaxing," Clark returned, and then turned to look out one of the Daily Planet's large windows as the muffled sounds of a car accident caught his ear. He got to his feet, saying, "Look, I've got to go run some errands. You know how it is… I'll see you soon."

"Alright, dear," Martha said. "Good night."

"Good night," Clark hung up the phone and sped toward the roof, tugging at his necktie as he left the newsroom for his other job.

Since it was Friday the thirteenth, that evening ended up being even busier than Superman had anticipated. It was just after three in the morning before Superman was able to fly to Gotham City.

Superman did not like Gotham. For him, the city had always seemed like an immense dark beast with a cancerous growth festering at its core and spreading outward. Given the amount of corruption that pervaded through every level of Gotham's civil structure and especially the police department, the analogy was an accurate one. For every thug and violent criminal he had caught and delivered to the authorities in the city, it seemed like there were equally shady individuals who were more than willing to fill the niche left behind. Sometimes, he would even apprehend the same person on successive nights. This led Superman to believe the Gotham City Police Department had a revolving door policy when it came to certain criminals.

At first glance, Metropolis and Gotham City were remarkably similar. Both were large coastal cities with rivers and canals that separated the different suburbs and boroughs. However, a closer look would reveal that most of Gotham's buildings were constructed using a particular style of architecture uncommonly seen in Metropolis. In addition, Gotham's urban sprawl had evolved in such a manner that there were remnants of heavy industrialization everywhere.

The de facto center of Gotham City was Wayne Tower. The monorail, water and power utilities all spread out from that one building in the heart of Midtown. Exterior spotlights rayed upward to bathe the building with light, making it seem almost warm and inviting, especially when compared to the more impersonal glass and steel structures around it.

Circling the building a couple of times, Superman used his vision to get an idea as to the general layout of the interior. After some consideration, he decided the best method of examination would be to start at the top of the building and gradually work his way down. He took care to stick to the tower's exterior shadows where he was less likely to be observed as he skimmed through files, cabinets, desks and drawers for clues that might lead to the whereabouts of Lois and Jason.

After finishing the top two floors, Superman had started in on the third when a voice rasped, "Find what you were looking for?"

Superman started with surprise at the voice, whipping his head around in search of the source. And even then, although he knew for sure someone was there, he found himself having to minutely adjust his vision to a level that allowed him to see the other man clearly. There, in the darkest shadow by one of Wayne Tower's parapets, crouched a black figure that could be none other than Batman.

They gazed each other in silence for a long moment, and abruptly Superman realized that the Gotham 'hero' must have been there the entire time, watching him.

"Not really, no," Superman finally answered, turning in the air to face Batman more directly.

Batman grunted in reaction and stood up for a moment before he took a quick step and leaped to the nearest corner column with catlike grace. His gloves clung to the surface of the stone, and he crouched again. With the cowl hiding his face and the great black cape now billowing behind him like dark wings, he appeared more like a gargoyle than a man. "I heard you were gone for good," he growled out.

Superman rose up to where he would be eye level with Batman, examining him closely. Despite his wealthy upbringing, the man behind the graphite mask was an ordinary human who had the will, determination and creativity to fight crime and corruption in Gotham City. As Bruce Wayne, for all his wealth, there was little he could do to stop the rampant decay festering at the heart of the city's civil structure, but as Batman, he was already making a profound difference, if the articles about him were true. Superman came to a decision, and arced one dark brow as he stated, "I heard the same thing about you. Seven years, was it?"

This time, it was Batman's turn to be surprised. He went as still as a statue for a moment, and then nodded his head with understanding, dryly recalling, "The x-ray vision. I should have known." Abruptly he stood up to his full height and held out his hand as though he were not standing on a stone column hundreds of feet above the ground. "Bruce Wayne," he introduced himself before adding pointedly, "I don't think I caught your name."

Superman stared at the outstretched hand before meeting the green eyes of this man who clearly expected to be regarded as an equal. Then he approached close enough to clasp Bruce's hand in his own, giving it a shake and release. "My name is Kal-El."

Batman lowered his hand. "Kal-El. Strange name."

It didn't take x-ray vision for Clark to see the dubious expression on the other man's face. "Be as that may, you asked me for my name, and I gave it. It's my real name-the name I was born with."

"Oh, I don't doubt that it's your real name. I just can't help wondering if it's the only name you use." Wayne's expression was speculative as he regarded hovering superhero, who remained silent. "Have it your way then. Now then, what exactly are you looking for in my building?" The barest of smiles quirked his thin lips as he wryly added, "If I know, perhaps I can direct you to the right floor."

Drifting away a few feet, Superman admitted, "It's a little complicated. But basically it boils down to this. Why has Wayne Enterprises more than doubled its lead ore purchases, especially in sheet form, in the past year?"

"Is that all?" Batman lifted his arm, gesturing around him at Gotham City. "You're looking at the reason why." He hunched down again on the column, explaining, "You weren't around when Gotham nearly tore itself apart a year ago."

Superman nodded slowly, his face regretful, "I read about it in back issues of newspapers when I returned. A panic-inducing neurotoxin was the cause, correct?"

"Yes, dispersed throughout the city via the water supply," Bruce continued, "but the toxin itself was an inhalant. The Narrows is still virtually uninhabitable. A lot of buildings were damaged in the mayhem that ensued, buildings that were already dilapidated from twenty years of age and neglect. Wayne Enterprises has been working ever since to repair the aftereffects of that night. All these construction projects take lead ore."

The news was unsurprising to Superman, it only corroborated the information he had already gleaned from the hundreds of documents scanned a short time ago. "And the lead sheets?"

"It's used to line radiology labs in the medical clinics we've been building," Batman replied, turning his head to study the crimson caped man floating near. "You think that someone's keeping Lois Lane and her son in a lead lined room?" At Superman's sharp glance, he shrugged, "Her kidnapping made news even here in Gotham, and I've got a good memory. You're asking about lead sheets and you can't find them. Logic dictates that they're being kept somewhere that you can't see into, that means a lead lined room."

"Exactly," Superman grimaced, frustration tinging his voice as he spoke. "Every night I fly around, I look, I listen and I have yet to find a trace of them. Tracking down lead sheet shipments is one of the few clues I've got to go off of." Grimly, he added, "That, and a strong suspicion Lex Luthor is behind it all."

Batman considered that information for a long moment and then inquired, "What about the girl? I read that the kidnappers left a witness. She couldn't remember anything useful?"

Shaking his head, Superman said, "Nothing that might lead to their whereabouts."

"If you believe Lex Luthor to be the one behind their abduction, then you should instead be focusing on the Vanderworth Foundation, and what they've been buying and selling since he inherited," Batman informed him, a wry smile on his face. "A few of Gertrude Vanderworth's relatives live here in Gotham, and they were quite… perturbed…," the single word seemed to imply a vast amount of understatement, "when they realized Mr. Luthor had a gridlock on her fortune. It was all people would talk about at parties for weeks."

Superman expression was chagrined as he listened, "The Vanderworth Foundation. It actually came up in our research, but we didn't have any luck tracing recent ore purchases to them, so kind of left it. Especially when calls to ore suppliers kept mentioning branches of Wayne Enterprises as being the biggest buyers, especially in the past year. Wayne Medical, Wayne Biotech, Wayne Technologies… You get the idea."

Batman's lips quirked with amusement, "So you went for the obvious choice. You should have stuck with the Vanderworth Foundation. It's a not for profit organization, so they can hold off reporting purchases until tax season if they want. Not to mention, there's always the possibility that they used a dummy corporation to make the buy. Or a corporate subsidiary… All of those things would make it much more difficult to trace for someone not familiar with the tricks of the trade."

"Someone like me, for instance," Superman gave the crouching black figure a sidelong glance. "I don't suppose you'd know anyone who might have extensive experience with these sorts of business practices, would you?"

"I might," Batman replied as he stood up to his full height again. "I'll check into it and contact you if I find anything useful," he promised before leaping off the column into the air, his cape immediately flattening out into the shape of giant bat wings as he drifted down and away.

Superman watched him glide off, a perplexed expression on his face. He couldn't imagine what chain of events would lead a man like Bruce Wayne to don such a fearsome disguise to combat crime, while still maintaining the illusion of being a billionaire businessman and playboy. A lot must have during that seven year period he had been missing and presumed dead, he thought as he soared skyward and headed back toward Metropolis.


	19. Sick and Tired

A/N -I want to thank everyone who's been so supportive and concerned about me and my family through the sicknesses we've had recently. As some of you may recall, I had a serious ear infection, it's now led to permanent hearing damage in my left ear. I'm adjusting well, the infection is gone, the dizziness and such are all gone as well, so I'm back to being healthy again. And more importantly, my muse has returned!

For critics of my characterization of Bruce Wayne, I say to you, my character is based solely on the character as portrayed by Christian Bale in the movie Batman Begins. I feel he is far less jaded and cynical, and far more likeable than the Bruce Wayne that appears in the comic books, and thus that's why I have written him thus.

And to you, Cathy, and you, Lachesis Benton? I can't express how supportive and helpful you two have been, I strongly doubt this chapter would exist if not for you :) Thanks.

* * *

Chapter 18: Sick and Tired

Lois had never realized that being a prisoner could be so mind-numbingly boring.

The first day or two had not been so bad. A few hours after taking their DNA samples, the Battleaxe had wheeled in a large television on a cart. Lois held Jason on her lap as she flipped between all of the news channels, trying to absorb every piece of information on the news wires involving their kidnapping.

It was with a great sense of relief that they learned the news on the TV screen echoed what they'd read in the Daily Planet. Trish's injuries were minor, and she had been released from the hospital only a few hours after the abduction. Jason watched as a reporter relayed that news, and sadly said, "I tried to help get her out of the car but the bee stung me again and again and then I got kinda sleepy."

Lois tightened her grip on the little boy when she recalled her own terror upon seeing that black gun barrel pointed at her. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she managed, "They say she'll be just fine, only bumps and bruises. Kind of like when you fell off the monkey bars that one time at the park, remember? You were a little sore but after a day or two everything was fine."

Jason nodded his dark head without looking away from the television, which now displayed a picture of him and Lois from a few months earlier. "Superman will find us," he said the absolute trust and faith that only a child could express.

"I know he will," Lois responded, brushing a kiss to the top of her son's head.

As time passed and news of their abduction faded from being the day's top story to getting little more than a passing mention in the daily newspaper editions that Dr. Avaira brought by every morning with breakfast, Lois' hope of an imminent rescue began to fade. It was clear that their abduction had been extremely well planned and timed, and given the fact that Lex Luthor had pointed attention away from himself by being at the police station during the kidnapping, there were few real leads. She knew that Trish would have done all she could to help the authorities find them, but leads and clues to their whereabouts seemed to be almost nonexistent.

Lois was incredibly proud of how Jason was taking their confinement. He played the piano while she watched television or read and they played games together to help pass the time. She knew the little boy had to be just as bored as she was with their confinement. The rare times he did complain, he wasn't whiney or obnoxious, he just said he wanted to 'go outside and play.'

She did notice that on numerous occasions, she would catch Jason looking at her, a questioning look in his eyes. But when she asked him if everything was alright, he merely gave her that endearing smile as he nodded his head. Lois knew that the time was soon coming when he would be ready to ask that unspoken question. She just wasn't sure if she'd be ready to answer it.

* * *

When Trish got to the Daily Planet Saturday afternoon, Clark was sitting at his desk staring at the computer monitor, an intent expression on his face.

"Good morning," the blonde teen greeted him as she removed her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, along with her backpack. "Sorry I'm late, I tried to call before lunch but you were out."

"Mmhmm" Clark responded and glanced up at the clock. "I think I was out running some errands then…. Lunch ended taking longer than I had expected, too."

Trish's gaze went to the nearest television monitor, where an anchor was enthusiastically describing Superman's appearance at a club fire in Sydney Australia an hour earlier. "Oh? Saturday mornings are usually pretty dull." She looked over his shoulder at the monitor, "Still reading up on lead ore?"

Clark shook his head as he clicked a link, "Nope, reading up on the Vanderworth fortune. It's almost as old as Wayne Enterprises, but instead of branching out into multiple fields the way Wayne Enterprises has done, the Vanderworth dynasty has been built up exclusively around the shipping industry." Now his monitor was showing footage of Lex's press conference from two weeks earlier, and the reporter's face turned grim as he watched the replay. He used the mouse to adjust to volume to a level that Trish could hear.

Leaning against the desk, Trish crossed her arms as she looked down at Clark, "I guess you've decided Wayne Enterprises has nothing to do with the kidnappings, eh?"

"I should have just stayed with the Vanderworth Foundation," Clark admitted with chagrin, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. "The entire fortune is controlled by Lex, so he can direct it to do whatever he wants. That includes more than having money to hire the lawyers to defend him," he gestured at his screen.

"Yeah, but we couldn't find any evidence of unusual lead purchases linked to either Vanderworth shipping, or to the foundation," Trish reminded him, and then grimaced, "In fact, we couldn't find much information on their purchases at all. It was a dead end."

Clark shifted in his chair as he pointed out, "Yes, but just because we couldn't find records of the purchases doesn't mean they weren't taking place. Now I'm pretty certain that Lex used a dummy corporation or corporate subsidiary to buy the lead. At that's what my source suggested."

"Dummy corporations? Corporate subsidiaries?" Trish echoed in a bewildered tone. "How do those work?"

"Ah, actually I don't really understand it all myself," Clark confessed. "I tried reading up on it earlier but it is pretty confusing. My source said that he'd be in touch with some information that might help, so….."

Trish knew better than to ask the source's name. "Gotcha." She paused for a moment, then arced an eyebrow at Clark. "So…?"

"So…. So we're kind of stuck until I hear from him," Clark finally finished, gesturing across the room. "Richard staked out Lex's place last night, he is getting some sleep now and will probably be in later tonight. Jimmy's on it right now. I told them I'd take a shift tonight."

Grinning, Trish shook her head, "That's not what I meant. So… did you see him?" she asked in a low voice.

Clark looked genuinely confused. "See who?"

"Batman, of course," Trish rolled her eyes with exasperation. "Who else?"

His smile held a hint of nervousness as Clark glanced around the room to see who might be listening in on their conversation. As usual, the other Daily Planet employees were busy with their own work and deadlines, so no one was paying either Trish or Clark attention whatsoever. "I saw him, yes."

Trish's mouth opened, and her crossed arms fell slack to her side with shock. "Really?" she fought to keep the volume level down as she demanded in a loud whisper, "You really saw him? What's he like?"

Clark cleared his throat. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. He's not at all what I expected," the reporter confided honestly.

"But you saw him. I mean saw him, right? Saw his face?" Trish's brown eyes were bright with interest as she waited for his response.

Sighing, Clark nodded, "Yes, but don't even think I'm going to tell you who he is. It's his secret to share, not mine. If he wanted people to know, he wouldn't be wearing a mask," he stated in a quiet but firm tone, and turned back to his computer, where the Lex interview had just started to auto replay.

Trish started complaining straight away, and Clark did his best to ignore her by staring at his monitor, "Oh come on, you know I can keep a secret. Let me see if I can guess who it is. It's… hm... Let me think…Oh! I know…." She was quiet for a long moment, and then suddenly she exclaimed loudly, "Oh my god, it's Bruce Wayne…"

Clark jerked in utter shock at her words, looking up at her, his jaw slack. "How…."

Trish wasn't even paying attention to him. Instead, her attention was focused beyond his desk to the carpeted aisle that led from the elevators straight into Editor-In-Chief Perry White's office. He turned to look in that direction and slowly got to his feet, as did nearly every other employee at the Daily Planet, everyone's face having similar expressions of surprise and awe.

Striding down that aisle with supreme confidence as though he owned the place (which indeed he did), was the immaculately dressed billionaire playboy himself, Bruce Wayne.

"What's he doing here?" Trish whispered to Clark while trying to keep Wayne in her line of sight. The tall reporter remained silent, his expression inscrutable as he watched Bruce Wayne approach Perry's office.

Trish moved around her coworker in the small workspace to get a better look at the man widely regarded as one of the world's most eligible bachelors. Bruce Wayne was taller than she had expected, standing perhaps an inch shorter than Clark. As she studied his finely chiseled face, dark hair and green eyes, the girl decided that magazines and newspaper pictures really did not do him justice. The charcoal grey suit he wore was perfectly fitted and made him look even more handsome. A slim white folder was tucked under his arm.

The Chief's secretary, Mary Benton, was one of the few people who had not been struck dumb with surprise at the new arrival. Mary was widely regarded by everyone at the office as a total prude, despite the fact that she was really quite attractive. She was a hard working professional who had little time and patience for anything that did not have something to do with her duties at the Daily Planet, which was one of the reasons Perry had hired her as his personal secretary, despite her youth.

As Bruce Wayne approached her desk, the petite brunette was business as usual, giving him a brisk nod and polite words of greeting as she led him toward the glass doors to Perry's office. Just before Mr. White opened the doors to let Bruce in, the tall man leaned down and quietly said something to Mary. No one but Mary heard it, but whatever he said caused her face to flush with pleasure as a broad grin appeared on her face.

Trish had been working for the Planet for nearly a month now, and had never seen so much as a hint of a smile on Mary Benton's face. Judging from the obvious shock displayed by the other Daily Planet employees, neither had they. The sight of the spinsterish woman blushing and smiling was just too much. Trish started giggling. She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound but it did little to hold back her mirth.

Luckily, Perry had chosen that moment to open his office door to greet his visitor. "Mr. Wayne, it's an honor to meet you," the normally gruff editor-in-chief said with a smile, shaking the younger man's hand before gesturing him into the office. Perry looked around the bullpen at the Daily Planet's workers, most of who were still standing there agog, and demanded, "Well?"

The room erupted into a rush of noise as everyone returned to their duties, or to looking as busy as possible at the very least. Satisfied with the resumption of productivity, the Chief closed the door to his office. The blush had faded from Mary Benton's face but her smile still lingered as she sat down at her desk and got back to work.

It took a few minutes for Trish to get her giggles under control after she and Clark sat down in their respective chairs. "I'm really sorry," she apologized breathlessly. "I don't know where that came from, it was just… you know Mary, I mean she's really nice and she works hard, but she takes herself so seriously, and to see her blushing like a teenager just… it was funny." She leaned toward him and asked, "What'd he say to her anyway?"

Clark looked embarrassed, "I'm not saying." A hint of confusion tinged his expression and he admitted, "I'm not sure why she blushed at it anyway, I'm certain that Seth Wayland said the same thing to her last week and she got mad at him and said he was unprofessional."

"Clark," Trish explained with extreme patience, "getting a compliment from Bruce Wayne is a little different than getting a compliment from Seth the copy boy. Trust me on this one."

"If you say so," Clark said, glancing over his shoulder at Perry's office.

Trish followed his gaze, and asked, "What're they talking about?"

Intense blue eyes swung around to meet her brown ones, and Clark leaned forward to state, "I am not your personal listening device."

The girl froze and had the grace to blush, lowering her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I mean, I wasn't…" she bit her lip and promised, "I won't do it again."

Clark straightened in his chair, studying her bowed head for a long moment before telling her, "It's all right to be curious, and all right to want to find out more information. But using people to get that information, especially your friends, is… well it's rude. And I don't think that's the kind of journalist you want to be, is it?"

Trish nodded, brushing a swath of hair away from her face as she looked up at him in shame. "No, it's not."

He gave her a quick nod, and turned his chair back to face his desk. "However," Clark began as he opened drawer and sifted through some file folders, "I'm sure if they were talking about anything, it'd be about how pleased Mr. White is to finally meet Mr. Wayne and vice versa, and how well the Daily Planet sales have been doing recently, and that the city is recovering quite nicely from the damage caused by New Krypton's creation." Trish stared at him and he slanted her a quick smile. "That kind of thing."

Relieved by his apparent forgiveness, Trish returned the smile, "Gotcha." She shifted in her seat. "So, um, what did you want me to do today? More internet research?"

"Well, actually…" Clark's voice trailed off as the door to Perry's office opened and Bruce and the editor in chief emerged, all smiles.

"Are you sure you don't want me to show you around?" the Chief was asking the handsome billionaire.

"I'll be fine, Mr. White," Bruce Wayne smoothly assured him. "Besides, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do, and I've kept you from it for long enough. It was a pleasure meeting you."

There was a tinge of relief on Perry's face. After all, he did really have a lot of work to do. The older man nodded, "Likewise," before returning to his office.

Trish stared openly at Bruce Wayne as he looked around the room for a moment and then meandered his way over to the left to Gil's desk. He chatted with the politics reporter for a few minutes and then drifted beyond to Lois' empty desk. There he paused, reaching out to pick up the same broken frame that Trish had examined soon after starting work at the Daily Planet. After studying the family picture of Richard, Lois and Jason for a long moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, he carefully replaced it on the desk and moved on.

"Trish?"

Clark's voice sunk into her subconscious, and she dimly realized it must not have been the first time he had called her name. "Hmm? I'm sorry, I was just, uh, thinking."

Clark adjusted his glasses with his fingertip, "I won't embarrass you by asking 'about what'," his gaze flicking over to where Bruce was.

Trish flushed in reaction and cleared her throat, "Was there something you wanted me to do?" She looked to the computer screen, where the Lex Luthor press conference was replaying again. Was this the fourth, or the fifth time now? "Why do you keep watching that?"

Swiveling his chair around to face the monitor again, Clark sighed. "I don't know. Looking for answers, I suppose. Weaknesses. Something." He grimaced, "I just can't figure out what makes a man like Lex… well the way he is."

"Who knows?" Trish rested an elbow on the desk. "It's not like he's grown up in the lap of luxury or has had an easy life. His father was abusive, he grew up in Suicide Slum, which is where he got his beginnings in crime… He loves power, and hates anyone who wants to stop him from having that power."

"Like Superman," Clark said morosely.

Trish nodded, "Exactly." She fell silent for a moment as she watched the conference play out again. It had progressed to the part where Luthor was challenging Superman to come forth and prove that he'd been attacked. The girl had a niggling awareness of something, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. Abruptly, the light suddenly dawned. "He's jealous," she realized and as soon as the words left her mouth she sensed the truth in them.

"Jealous?" Clark echoed, blinking with confusion. "Jealous of what?"

"Of Superman," Trish explained, straightening up in her chair as she met Clark's eyes. "Seriously, just think about it." She began ticking off the points on her fingertips for emphasis, "Superman has been the only one who has stopped Lex Luthor from achieving his goal of being the most powerful man in the world. And at the same time, Superman has powers that he could never even dream of having."

Clark's expression was thoughtful as he stared at the screen. "Lex Luthor is jealous of Superman and his powers," he repeated. It was clearly a motivation for the criminal that he had never considered.

Something else had occurred to Trish. "Not only is he jealous, I bet he thinks Superman is a waste."

"A waste? How could Superman be a waste?" Clark sounded almost offended by that.

"Because he has so many amazing powers, and he doesn't use them." Trish pursed her lips and clarified, "Well, because he doesn't use them the way that Lex Luthor would, if he had the same powers. Do you think he'd be helping people? Or using that power for personal gain?"

"Excuse me," Bruce Wayne's smooth voice broke into the conversation, startling both of them into silence.

Clark immediately jumped to his feet, an anxious look on his face. "Mr. Wayne!"

Trish could do little more than stare up at the handsome man. She'd been so caught up in her conversation with Clark that she forgotten the billionaire was even in the newsroom. Apparently Wayne had idled his way around the entire office, chatting with people about their work. By the time he'd reached Clark's desk, the workers in the bullpen were adjusted to his presence and had returned to business as usual.

An easy smile on his face, Bruce Wayne offered his hand to Clark in greeting, "And you're Clark Kent." His intelligent green eyes assessed the taller man for a moment, sweeping him from head to foot, "You're not quite what I expected."

Clark let a nervous laugh escape as he returned the handshake, "I was thinking the same thing about you, actually."

"Well, you know what they say," Bruce's voice held dry humor, "things aren't always what they seem." His gaze flicked to Trish, who was still staring up at him in silent awe. "And you must be…" A gesture with one hand encouraged her to speak.

"Patricia Mason," Trish replied, in a voice that seemed unusually high pitched to her own ears. She cleared her throat as she got to her feet and held out her hand to greet Bruce, in a more normal tone clarifying, "Actually, it's Trish, not Patricia…. I mean, well Patricia is my name, but everyone calls me Trish. Except my parents, that is." She was babbling, knew it, and couldn't seem to stop the rush of words.

Amused, Bruce inclined his head and flashed his most engaging smile as he took her hand and shook it. "Trish it is."

Trish had never believed that old cliché about a smile alone being able to make a person weak in the knees until that moment. But when Bruce Wayne flashed that killer smile at her, she immediately realized they knew what they were talking about. She beamed up at him like the starstruck teenager she was.

Clark watched the interaction between the two, a hint of wariness in his blue eyes, explaining , "Trish is my, uh… well she's kind of like a… She's been working here at the Daily Planet as part of an extra credit assignment in her journalism class. I'm not exactly sure if there is an official name for her position."

"Either way, she must be an excellent student, if she was assigned to work here at the Daily Planet," Bruce commented, which made Trish flush with pleasure at the compliment. He withdrew the slim white folder he'd been holding from under his arm and offered it to Clark, his cheerful expression turning serious. "Here's that information you requested. I think you'll find it an interesting read."

Trish managed to tear her gaze away from Wayne's face and focus on the folder. The implications of his words sunk in, and her brown eyes went wide with surprise as she looked first at Clark, then Bruce. "Wait, wait…" Deliberately lowering her voice, she continued in a softer tone, "You're his source?" When Clark had said he was going to check out Wayne Enterprises, she hadn't realized that it would include a call by Clark to Bruce Wayne in addition to the aerial fly-by by Superman.

One of Clark's broad shoulders rolled in a shrug in response to Trish as he accepted the folder. "Thank you, I really appreciate this, and..." He fell silent, inclining his head a fraction, and then placed the folder on his desk. Apologetically, he said, "Would you two excuse me for just a moment? I ah, had a little too much coffee this morning." Without waiting for a response, he slipped between Trish and Bruce and headed down the aisle toward the doors.

Trish watched with dismay as Clark vanished from sight, and turned to look up at Bruce. With relief, she realized he didn't seem to be offended by the abrupt departure. In fact, his green eyes were bright with interest, and they swung to meet her gaze as she confided weakly, "Um. Small bladder."

Bruce Wayne struggled to hold back a laugh at that, and instead gestured at Clark's computer monitor, which was once again replaying the press conference. "So, what're you two working on today?" he inquired with curiosity.

Blinking a little at the question, she hesitantly answered, "Oh. Well, we were just… you know, trying to figure out what makes someone like Lex Luthor tick. I mean, you know, sure he's power hungry, but is there more to it? We decided he's jealous. I mean, of Superman, and his powers." She glanced up at Bruce to see what he thought of their theory.

He immediately nodded agreement, "I'm sure that's an accurate conclusion, given the history between the two." Bruce shifted his attention from the screen to Trish, arching an eyebrow. "Was that your idea?"

The teenager blushed, ducking her head. "Yes. It just kind of, you know, came to me all of a sudden. What do men who want power want? More power." Trish gasped out loud as she realized her words were probably offensive to the man regarded by many to be one of the most powerful businessmen in the United States, and hastened to assure him, "I mean, not you of course. Not that you're not powerful but I .. well obviously you're not Lex Luthor, and I…" She covered her face with a hand and took a deep breath.

"Trish," Bruce's voice was mirthful as he spoke, waiting until her hand fell away from her face before he continued, "I have quite enough on my plate as it is. Taking on Superman is definitely not part of my social agenda."

Trish nodded, biting her lip as she returned her attention to the conference again. Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne really had almost nothing in common, she decided. Wayne seemed very nice, despite his wealth and reputation, where Luthor was little more than a well dressed thug. Certainly, Bruce was far better looking. In fact, if Lex had not inherited Gertrude Vanderworth's fortune they would have nothing at all in common.

Even their taste in women was vastly different. Trish shifted her attention from Lex to the form of Katherine Kowalski, who stood just behind him. Her face drew down into a thoughtful frown as she regarded the woman, who held the small dog against her chest.

"Something wrong?" Bruce asked.

"Hmm?" Trish came out of her reverie, "Oh… no, why do you ask?"

The tall man shrugged and tucked one of his hands into his pants pocket. "You looked pretty intent there for a moment, like you saw something you hadn't noticed before."

Trish hesitated before admitting, "I was just thinking… wondering really, why would any woman want to stay with a man like Lex Luthor."

Bruce tilted his head before taking a step forward. He rested one hand on the desk and bent closer to get a better look as the conference played out on the screen. "Fear," his voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

"Fear?" the teenager echoed. That never would have even occurred to her had he not suggested it.

As the interview started to replay again, Trish moved to stand beside him and together, they watched. Bruce gestured at Kitty's arm, "See how she holds the dog? It's squirming in her arms and rolling its eyes, as though she's clutching it too tight. She keeps raising it to her face, as though she's trying to comfort herself. Notice that she won't look directly at Luthor. Watch how her eyes dart away when he gestures at her during the conference." He straightened to his full height, stating, "She's terrified of him."

"You're right, she is afraid of him," Trish agreed, rubbing her fingertip across her chin. "I never would have guessed that. So she really stays with him because, what, she's afraid to leave?" Her gaze was thoughtful as she looked up at him. She didn't say anything, but her expression conveyed the question, how did a man like Bruce Wayne know so much about fear, about being afraid?

Bruce merely shrugged. "Everyone's afraid of something." A slight smile touched his lips, but his green eyes were serious.

Trish was all skepticism at that. "Huh. Right. What're you afraid of, then?" she asked boldly, her chin lifting in challenge as she waited for his response.

They stared in silence at each other for a long moment, and then Bruce said, "Well actually, I…"

Before he could finish his sentence, a breathless voice broke into the conversation, "I'm back! Sorry about that," Clark apologized, adjusting his glasses as he rounded the side of his desk. A frown touched his face as he sensed the serious mood between the two. "Everything alright? Trish?" he asked the teenager, brows drawing together.

Trish paused, looking from Bruce to Clark before she said reassuringly, "Everything's fine. Mr. Wayne and I were just chatting."

Bruce slanted Clark a quick grin, "Yes, we were just chatting. She's a smart girl."

The teenager's face flushed again.

Clark responded with his familiar crooked smile, but his blue eyes were serious as agreed with Bruce, "Yes she is."

"Master Wayne?" A distinguished grey-haired man who looked to be in his 60s approached them. "Pardon the interruption, sir, but if you wanted to make that six o'clock appointment with Mr. Fox…" He gave respectful nods to Trish and Clark.

Sighing, Bruce nodded. "Thank you, Alfred, I'll be right down." The older gentleman appeared satisfied with his response and turned on his heel, heading back to the door. Wayne turned to the tall reporter, "It was a pleasure meeting you in person, Clark. Again, if I can be of any assistance, please feel free to contact me." He extended his hand and the tall reporter shook it farewell.

"Thank you again," Clark said, glancing at the folder on his desk.

As Bruce offered his hand to Trish, she shook it with enthusiasm, "It was a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

"Believe me, the pleasure was all mine," the billionaire assured her with a smile, and then turned to leave.

Trish and Clark watched as Wayne strode toward the exit, and then looked at each other. "He is way nicer than I would have expected," she immediately said to Clark.

"Yes, he's quite surprising, isn't he?" was Clark's response. "You certainly seemed impressed by him," he added nonchalantly, his blue eyes regarding her.

She reddened slightly with embarrassment, "He's nice, is all." As Clark continued to stare at her in silence, she huffed, "Come on, I mean, yes he's good-looking, smart and rich, but he's also like, what? Ten years older than me?"

"Try thirteen years older," Clark stated, sounding like an over-protective brother.

The phone chose that moment to start ringing, and Trish snatched it off the hook, grateful for the interruption. "Daily Planet, Clark Kent's desk," she spoke into the receiver.

Clark picked up the folder, sitting down in his chair as he thumbed through the pages. The report was brief but thorough in explaining the details of how Lex Luthor had used the Vanderworth Foundation to make the appropriate purchases. All together, the clues led to exactly one place.

"Genetixx Laboratories," Trish said triumphantly, hanging up the phone with a clatter.

Clark was startled by her announcement. He didn't realize she'd read the folder in his absence. She usually left stuff on his desk alone.

His surprise must have shown on his face, because the girl explained, "That was Jimmy, and he was calling to tell us he'd just tailed Kitty and Lex there, to Genetixx Laboratories." Her gaze dropped down to the folder and she asked, "Well, how good was your source?"

Wordlessly Clark withdrew a piece of paper from the folder and held it out for her. A carefully organized flow chart linked up a multitude of connections between Lex Luthor, the Vanderworth Foundation and numerous dummy corporations right on down to Genetixx Laboratories.

"Wow. He IS a good source," Trish commented, wide-eyed as she looked over the paper.


	20. Bend and Break

A/N - Wow. This has been a long time coming. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this up. I got a new position at my job and now have been working 40-50+ hours a week, so I have had a heck of a time finding time to write. Thank you to everyone who emailed me and msged me to make sure I was alive and kicking, this chapter is dedicated to you. And regarding this chapter.. it's busy. Very busy, a lot is going on. As Gandalf said in The Lord of the Rings, "The board is set, the pieces are moving..." that's what is happening right now in my story ;) I hope you enjoy it, and that it's not too much of a let down... be forgiving, after all I'm out of writing practice since its been more than 3 months since I last updated!

Special thanks to Cathy (as usual), Satiet, LostSchitzophrenic, and most especially, to my SO, without whom the Jason/Lois scene would have been impossible to conceptualize.

* * *

Chapter 19: Bend and Break

"I'm going to check it out," Clark announced, getting to his feet and tossing the file folder onto his desk.

Trish wasn't surprised. It was the best lead they'd had since the abduction. In fact, it was the only lead, really. Standing, she reached out to catch his attention before he ran off, "Wait, what about Richard? Jimmy said he'd wait for Richard to call him back." The girl paused, realizing something. "Hey, you're not just going to leave me here, are you?"

A hint of a smile touched Clark's lips as he quietly pointed out, "I can't exactly take you with me, the way I'll be traveling, can I?"

Sheepishly, Trish had to laugh at herself. "Oh. Right, yeah I guess that wouldn't work too well."

"So, listen," Clark pushed his glasses up on his nose, an odd expression on his face. "I guess you should go ahead and call Richard… but wait until after I leave, ok? Tell him, ah, tell him I went to do some research on Genetixx and that I'll be in touch."

Trish studied his face for a moment and then laughed with understanding, "Not used to explaining yourself, are you, before you head off to do… well whatever it is that you do."

He shook his head with a smile in response, "Not really, no." Clark hesitated before he confessed, "It's kind of nice, actually. Having someone who cares enough to worry about me. Me Clark, that is." A slight shrug lifted one shoulder, and in a dry voice, he added, "I doubt anyone worries about Superman. Well, unless he's unconscious in the hospital. Or gone for years."

"That's what friends are for, right?" Trish grinned up at him, but her smile began to fade as she considered his words. Superman's last run-in with Lex Luthor had not turned out well at all for the Man of Steel, and now there was a good chance that he'd be facing off with his arch enemy again. The girl was suddenly filled with deep sense of foreboding. Teary-eyed, impulsively she threw her arms around Clark in a hug.

Clark was shocked enough that he didn't react at first. However after a moment he returned the hug, giving her an awkward pat on the back before detaching himself with a nervous laugh. "Hey, part of my working here is not drawing attention to myself," he reminded her with a gentle smile.

"I know, I know," Trish replied, her voice breaking and wiped away a tear that had spilled from her eyes. "It's just… please be careful. Lex Luthor is evil, and he hates…" she caught herself just before she said 'you'. "He hates Superman. Promise me you'll be careful," she demanded.

"I promise to try," Clark vowed before heading toward the elevators.

Trish brushed the remaining tears from her damp cheeks as she watched him walk away, and sank down into his chair. When she felt she had her emotions under control, she picked up the phone and dialed Richard White's number. It rang two times before being picked up.

"Hello?" Richard's voice was somewhat groggy sounding, as though he had just woken up.

"Mr. White?" Trish began, and then corrected herself, "Richard? This is Trish… Listen, uh, Jimmy called a few minutes ago and Lex Luthor and Kitty Kowalski finally left that house."

There was a rustling, and Richard sounded far more awake when he spoke again. "Where'd they go?"

"To a place called Genetixx Laboratories. At 3848 Webster Road, here in Metropolis," Trish answered.

Richard was silent for a moment before he said, "Genetixx Laboratories? Hang on, let me write it down." It sounded like he put the receiver down, but it was only a few minutes before he picked it up and spoke again, "It's on Webster road?"

The girl nodded, even though he couldn't see her gesture, and repeated the address, "Yes. 3848 Webster road. One of Clark's sources had actually just given us some information that pointed to the same place, actually. Hang on a sec…" Trish picked up the folder Bruce Wayne had brought by and flipped it open, skimming through the pages. "They deal with genetic research and development, gene manipulation, splicing, that kind of thing. The Vanderworth Foundation purchased it through a dummy corporation about 3 weeks ago."

"Why would Luthor take them there…?" The man fell silent.

Trish and Richard both came to the conclusion simultaneously. "Jason." If Luthor knew Jason was Superman's son, there was no telling what kind of genetic experiments the child would be subjected to at his behest.

Breathless all of a sudden, Richard stated, "I've got to get down there… where're Clark and Jimmy?" Dresser drawers opened and shut in the background.

"Well Clark left a few minutes ago," Trish replied, suddenly a bit nervous as she related Clark's message. "He said that he was going to do a little more research on Genetixx, and that he'd be in touch. Jimmy's waiting to hear back from you on what to do next. I think he's still hanging around outside the lab."

"Call Jimmy and tell him I'll be there as fast as I can..." Richard started to say, then changed his mind. "No wait, I'll call him myself. He's got his camera, right?"

"Jimmy never goes anywhere without his camera," Trish said with a grin. There were few certainties in life, but that was one of them. "When will you be by to pick me up?"

Richard hesitated before answering, "I won't be by. Trish, this could get dangerous, and there's no way I'm going to bring you into a situation where you could get hurt, or worse. Hell, I shouldn't even be asking Jimmy to come along."

The girl immediately protested, "But Richard, come on, you can't just leave me behind. I want to know what happens, are Lois and Jason there, is that really where Lex Luthor has been this whole time…"

"Well you're just going to have to wait to find out," Richard interrupted, his voice firm.

Trish bit her lip, instinctively realizing that nothing she said would change his mind. The phone receiver was beginning to hurt her ear, she had it pressed so hard against the side of her head.

Richard took a deep breath and said in a softer tone, "Trish, I know you are trying to help. I just don't want you to get hurt. I'm sorry." He hung up before she could say anything else.

Slowly, deliberately, Trish put the phone back on the receiver and stared at it. Even though she knew Richard was right, that it could get dangerous, she couldn't stifle the eternal teen lament that was resounding in her head. It's just wasn't fair. It wasn't ok for Trish to go, but Jimmy got to go. And he was only a few years older than she was.

The girl gave into the urge to sulk, crossing her arms and rocking back in Clark's chair, rotating it around and glaring at nothing in particular. Her angry stare fell on Lois Lane's desk, and her scowl deepened. She was willing to bet that Richard had never once tried to tell Lois what she could or couldn't do. Like it would have done him any good if he had. _If I were Lois Lane_, Trish thought to herself, _nothing in the world would stop me from getting a story_.

Thoughtful now, she rotated the chair back around to face Clark's desk. Both Lois and Jason probably thought she was dead. That was the worst part of not being able to go, that she wouldn't be there to see Lois, and especially Jason, when Superman saved them.

Trish took a deep breath and reached out to pick up the phone again, this time to call a cab.

* * *

It'd been almost a month since the Newhart Federal Bank had been robbed by four men armed not just with automatic weapons, but the helicopter-mounted Gatling gun. Repairs were still being made to the building's façade, but the interior was finished at least, and from Monday to Friday, it was business as usual. Today was Saturday afternoon though, and the bank was closed for the weekend. Even the street around the bank was fairly quiet, though the occasional cab or car passed by behind them.

A sleek white Mustang Shelby GT500 with black stripes on the hood pulled up in front of the bank and parked the Handicapped zone. The driver's side door opened, and a short and heavily tattooed Hispanic man got out of the vehicle and looked up at the front of the bank. "Buenos noches, mi senorita…" Diego drawled out.

Cedric's flashed a smile as he got out of the Ford, shutting the car's door with a casual swing. The door frame buckled in and the window shattered, spilling safety glass out onto the ground. "Dammit!" He paused for a moment, meeting Diego's accusing stare. "Sorry man… but it ain't like you won't be able to get you 'nother one in a few minutes," the black man pointed out, gesturing at the bank.

Diego's face twisted with anger for a moment, but then he grinned, tugging on his eyebrow piercing. "You know what? You're right… Who cares, anyway… ain't like I'm going to be driving from here on out anyway, is it?"

"That's for damn sure," Cedric growled out, walking toward the bank. When he got to the foot of the stone steps, he leapt to the top of the stairs, vaulting over all fifteen of them in one easy jump. "I've always heard flying is safer than driving anyway." Glancing over his shoulder at Diego, his eyebrows raised as he noticed Diego still standing by the Shelby. "Hey man, you coming?"

The Hispanic man bent down and in one quick movement, effortlessly lifted the Shelby above his head and threw it toward bank's glass doors. Cedric ducked as the car sailed over him and crashed into lobby of the bank. Immediately, multiple alarms begin to blare from both inside and outside the bank. Incredulously, the black man looked at Diego, who was now standing beside him and dusting his hands off.

"Never did like that color anyway," Diego commented with a wicked grin, and strolled into the bank. "Red's more my style."

"I heard that!" Cedric smirked in response, pausing in the lobby to pry a mangled piece of metal from the door frame with his hands, and rested it on his shoulders as though it were a baseball bat. "Let's get it on!"

* * *

Meanwhile on the opposite side of Metropolis, Lois Lane yawned with boredom as she lounged in the recliner in front of the television in her quarters at Genetixx Laboratories, a remote control held loosely in her hand. Jason quietly colored with a red crayon at the coffee table, looking up now and again at the TV screen, where the Backyardigans were off on another imaginary adventure, singing and dancing their way through the 'Heart of the Jungle'.

It had been more than two days since Lex Luthor had seen fit to grace them with his presence, but Lois knew better than to view that as a good sign. In fact, she and Jason had been left almost completely alone in that same time period. Not even Dr. Avaira or the Battleaxe had been by, which surprised her to no end. She had fully expected that the geneticist would attempt numerous experiments on Jason as it seemed that they were aware of the boy's unique heritage, but she had seen little of the scientists since the day the DNA samples were taken.

The only times the door had opened in the past two days was when their meals and snacks were delivered. And it was always the same one of Lex's thugs who brought them their meals. The grim-faced man known as Galloway had flat merciless stare that would have done a mako shark justice. He never spoke to them as he carried in the trays of food and set them on the coffee table, but his attention was invariably fixed upon Jason. What puzzled her about that was how Galloway's expression and mannerisms around the boy could be described no other way than respectful, almost to the point of reverence.

Galloway terrified her in a completely different way than Brutus from _The Gertrude_ had, Brutus, who had watched Jason with a predatory gleam in his hungry blue eyes. And so whenever she heard the doorknob turn, Lois would gather Jason into her arms and hold him on her lap, her face tense and wary. Luckily Galloway was rarely in the room for more than a minute or two, but even so…

On the television, the children's show finally came to a happy ending, cutting to a commercial. As the screen began to fill with the latest 'Spiderman 3' teaser, Jason found it interesting enough that he completely stopped coloring so he could watch it.

Another yawn escaped Lois and she adjusted her seat, stretching briefly before tucking her legs up under her and resting an elbow on the arm rest. "Honey, Mommy needs a break from Nickelodeon for a bit, so I'm going to watch the news, okay?" The boy didn't respond, his attention still fixated on the Spiderman trailer. When it ended, Lois flicked the remote, changing the channel to one of the major news networks, as Jason carefully moved his latest drawing to the side and picked out a clean sheet of paper and began a new drawing.

A few minutes passed, during which Lois was caught up on the day's news. There was no mention of her kidnapping. Instead, there was news about a tornado that had hit in Missouri, oil prices on the rise again, another congressional scandal… the same old, same old, in other words.

"Mommy?" Jason spoke without looking up from his coloring as he exchanged a brick red crayon for midnight blue. The plain red and blue crayons had been worn down to little more than nubs of wax the day before from overuse.

Lois responded absently, "Yes, honey?" flipping the station to different news channel. A slight grimace appearing on her face as she considered again how many great news scoops she'd likely missed out on since being taken captive.

"Did I get bitten by a spider?"

It took a moment for his question to sink in, and Lois straightened in her easy chair, lowering the remote control before facing Jason. "Did you get bitten by a spider?" she repeated, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

Guileless blue eyes met hers as Jason nodded, holding up his latest drawing. Not of Superman, this one, but of Spiderman, the blue spider design clearly visible on the red costume. "Yeah, you know. Like Spiderman. That's how he got to be Spiderman, remember?" he explained. "The spider bit him and then he got stronger than everyone else. Did a spider bite me, and that's why I can be so strong?"

Lois found herself truly at a loss for words, which was quite a unique experience for her, since she was someone who was a quick thinker, always ready with a response or a question. It's part of what made her such a good reporter. Her mouth opened, closed, and after a long pause, she managed to answer, "No, sweetie."

Jason considered her response, lowering the Spiderman drawing, smoothing his fingers over the waxy feel of crayon on paper. "Do I turn green when I get mad then, like the Incredible Hulk?" His expression cleared as he spoke as if a puzzle piece had just fallen into place. "I bet I do! The Hulk is only strong when he gets really mad, or scared. Like me. All the other times he's just a person." His gaze fell back down to the crayons spread out on the table, and small fingers riffled through them in search of the perfect shade of Hulk green.

Taking a deep breath, Lois closed her eyes briefly before she opened them again and rose to her feet. She walked over to kneel behind Jason and wrapped her arms around him from behind, giving him a hug as she spoke hoarsely, "No sweetie. You don't turn green when you get mad."

The small frame in her arms slumped in dejection before he set down the 'Screaming Green' crayon he had selected and turned to face her, drawing back a little. Jason's face was worried now as he asked, "Am I going to turn into a big rock like the Thing?" Barely had that question been asked before it was followed by another, and then another, each one coming faster than the one before. "Will I grow metal skin like the metal man in X-men? Or grow long claws like Wolverine? Or turn blue and furry? Will I have wings? Can I make it rain when I want? Or walk through walls? Or turn myself invisible, or be a boy on fire, but who never gets burned?" He was breathless by the time he stopped, looking up at her.

Tears burned behind Lois' eyes at the rush of words and she bit her lip, trying to keep her composure in the face of Jason's confusion and uncertainty. She could do little more than shake her head 'No' to all of his questions. She didn't know how else to react. It was impossible to comprehend the best way to explain to her five year old son the reason for his superhuman strength was because the only father he had ever known wasn't really his father. Jason was a very bright boy, but even so, was he really old enough, ready enough to know the truth surrounding his parentage?

Jason's lower lip quivered and his own eyes filled with tears of disappointment. "Why?"

Why indeed. The 'Why?' question was Jason had asked virtually every single day since he'd been old enough to talk. And yet, never before had Lois Lane felt more incapable of answering that question in a way she was sure he would understand.

Finally, raising her hands to cup around his small face, Lois smiled as she explained, "Because… you're different from them. You're special." She hesitated before continuing, "Spiderman, Hulk, Wolverine…. They're not real." Her fingers brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, in a loving gesture, "You are."

Jason's blue eyes were bright with emotion as he nodded, mustering the barest hint of a smile before he threw his arms around his mother's neck in a hug she returned, kissing the top of his head.

The door rattled a fraction of a second before flying open, and Lex Luthor strolled in, followed moments later by Kitty and Galloway, who closed the door behind them.

"Why Lois Lane, I'm completely shocked," Lex's smile was sly and knowing as he looked between the reporter and her son. "Have you been keeping secrets from your own son?"

Lois drew in a quick breath and her eyes darted up to one of the cameras in the room. It was pointed right at her and Jason. Usually she was hyper-aware of the cameras, but with so much of her attention focused on Jason and his questions, she'd completely forgotten about them. As she got to her feet, the little boy disentangled himself from her arms and took her hand in his much smaller one, looking up at the bald man. "What do you want?" she asked.

Lex made a tsking sound, giving a rueful shake of his head. "Lois, Lois… you disappoint me so! A Pulitzer prize winning reporter like yourself being so selfish with information that you aren't even willing to let your son in on what is probably one of the biggest news stories in the world." That scheming grin reappeared on his face as he added, "I'd say the truth about his parentage would be THE biggest news story, but I will be the one taking that honor soon enough."

That sounded ominous, Lois thought, her grip on Jason's hand tightening. What could possibly be a bigger story than the world finding out Superman had a son? "What are you up to now?" she demanded, glaring at Lex.

"Me?" Lex was the picture of innocence as he lightly touched his hand to his chest, "Why Ms. Lane, I'm just doing what I always do. Planning ahead for the future. MY future." That calculating smirk returned, and he gestured at the television screen, "However, if you find yourself wondering what that entails, all you have to do is watch the news. You'll find out soon enough."

Kitty squirmed, adjusting the ridiculous broad brimmed hat she wore as Lex spoke. Shifting Pommy from her right arm to her left as she wandered around the couch to get a closer look at some of Jason's drawings. She bent down, moving some of the papers aside to view more of them. Sure, there were pictures of Superman, but there just as many pictures of 'Mommy, Daddy and Me'. The slender woman picked up one of the latter and looked from it to Jason, and then asked Lois, "He really doesn't know, does he?"

Lois' gaze slid from Lex over to Kitty, but she had carefully schooled her expression and it remained blank at the question.

"A boy should know who his father is," Galloway rasped without warning, his grey eyes fiery with emotion, instead of being the flat dull shade Lois had grown accustomed to.

Jason frowned at Galloway, "I do know who my daddy is. His name is Richard. Richard White."

Lex snickered at that and said in the familiar children's sing-song taunt, "I know something you don't know, I know something you don't know…."

Lois tensed, her eyes pleading with Lex to say nothing further, for all the good it would probably do.

The red Pomeranian in Kitty's arms wiggled once, and that was enough for him to drop to the floor. Panting with happiness, he trotted across the room to Lois and Jason, sniffing first the woman and then the boy. Child and dog locked eyes for a brief moment, and then the dog reared up, prancing around on his feet and waving his paws furiously in a bid to get attention. Jason hesitated before extending his hand toward the dog.

Lex Luthor fell silent as the dog left Kitty's arms and he actually backed a half a step away from the furry little animal.

"Don't touch it, Jason," Lois ordered without thinking.

The boy's hand froze and he tilted his head to look up at her. "Why?"

"Because he…" Lois pursed her lips, trying to think of a more reasonable excuse than 'because he's Lex's girlfriend's dog'. "… because you're allergic to dogs," she finally replied. "Remember how the last time you tried to pet a dog, you had an asthma attack?"

Jason scowled at that, "Am not. I'm not allergic to anything anymore. And I don't have asthma either." Defiantly, he reached out to pat Pommy gently on the head, and earned some licks from the little animal in response. He giggled, tugging his other hand free from his mother's to scratch at his palm. "His tongue tickles." A hint of wonder on his face, Jason scratched the dog under the chin. "He likes me."

Lex had lost any semblance of humor during this interchange, his eyes darting warily between the little dog and the boy. "Kitty…" he spoke, his tone carrying a note of warning. And uneasiness.

Kitty, who had been standing there open mouthed watching, started as he spoke her name. She knelt down and made kissing sounds, "Pommy, come here, boy…" trying to persuade the dog to return to her.

The door abruptly burst open, and a nervous and sweaty Dr. Elias Avaira poked his head in. The geneticist closed the door to the soundproof room behind him before blurting out, "He's here!"

Dog immediately forgotten, Lex focused all of his attention on Dr. Avaira, and Galloway stiffened. "He's here? What do you mean by 'here'? Like here, in the building?"

Avaira's mouth gaped open and then snapped shut as he shook his head, "No… not yet. External cameras have caught sight of him flying around the building though… do you think… I mean…." His eyes darted toward Lois and Jason, "Do you think he knows they're here?"

Lois knew they could only be talking about one person. Superman had finally found them, and it was about time. She couldn't stop a broad smile from appearing on her face and bent down to take Jason's hand again. "It won't be much longer before we get to go home," she whispered to him.

The boy gave the little Pomeranian a final pat before grinning up at his mother. "See, I told you so…"

Pommy gaily trotted back to Kitty and allowed himself to be picked up and tucked under her arm again.

Ignoring Lois, Lex waved a hand and said to Dr. Avaira, "He suspects it, but he doesn't know it for certain. If he knew for sure, he'd rip this building apart to find her and the boy." The bald man winked at the geneticist, "If I know anything, it's that Superman is not going to break the law by breaking and entering unless he knows for sure they are here." He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist, "Besides, it's just a matter of time, now."

"A matter of time? Until what? Until Superman pulls this place down around your ears?" Lois lifted her chin in challenge, and Jason moved around to stand in front of her, staring up at Luthor.

As if on cue, a cell phone rang, and Lex beamed. "For that." He flicked open the phone and spoke into the receiver, "What?" He paused, looking around the room as whoever was on the other end spoke, "It's about time, he's here…" Irritation flickered across the bald man's face, "Well he was here… Look I don't care, just keep him busy." He snapped the phone shut, ending the conversation.

Their rescue didn't seem quite so eminent, and Lois put her hands on Jason's shoulders and stated, "If you've set some kind of trap for Superman, he'll never fall for it, Lex. There's no way I'm going to let you use us as bait."

A sharp laugh escaped Lex Luthor, and he waved his finger at her chidingly, "Ms. Lane, Ms. Lane.…As always, you still underestimate me. However, unlike you, I see the big picture." He sauntered over to the door, pulling it open before he turned back to give her that smirk she had grown to hate, "And Superman will not be in it for much longer."


End file.
